One For The Regulars

This afternoon I paid ninety-dollars for shockwave therapy on my hamstring origin tendon. For those unacquainted, shockwave therapy breaks down scar tissue using electrical pulses. For those acquainted, we now know how cattle feel. It is unfortunate to pay so much money to experience the closest thing to torture I can recall experiencing, but the doctor did have to spend five minutes handling my taint and I understand the need for compensation.

Afterwards, I had twenty minutes in town to kill before my train home. I visited a second hand bookshop, just in case they had any copies of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, which is very hard to find in Australia. They did not, but I browsed the paperbacks awhile and yearned for a book deal, then left to catch my train. On my way out I glanced into an adjacent restaurant which was shutting up for the day. It was a cafe near my old office building. One that offered a solid range of tasty meals that weren’t hard on the wallet, combined with a quiet table to sit at and a newspaper to read. Today the tables were empty, but the proprietor was behind the counter. We only made eye-contact a second, then he winked at me.