…feeling somewhat groggy and stiff as morning seeps in through the curtains. Yesterday - that fateful day - it was fresh with the faint smell of oak moss in the air. Now as we faintly make out the sounds of birds waking, there's an ever-present dankness surrounding with top notes of urine in the air. It's a little offensive at first and yet it is unmistakably natural, as the air is somehow thicker with our heavier eyelids and forlorn souls - the residual of perpetual broken promises. Few of us are still slumped here in our seats, bodies waking and finding themselves hungry - but a hunger not satiating by stale popcorn and rewarded only by the unshakeable sensation of dry smokey butter in the roof of our mouths.
We remain ready. We remain waiting. To be entertained, maybe even a little educated.
As promised.
