#5 Toast and jam
I didn't notice it last night, but there is a van parked about ten metres away from me. Now in the clouded morning sun, it is so big and solid I wonder briefly whether it had appeared out of thin air. For surely, even in the blackness, I would've felt it's presence. The van door slides open with a crash and a man lumbers out, barefoot onto the earth. He is brushing his teeth and looking away, away from me out at the sunrise over the low tide. His face is lit up and the toothpaste bubbles delightedly around his mouth. He takes a few steps forwards, towards the horizon as if he might touch it, then stops. He leans against the hood of the van and I look away, back inside. I am stretching out my neck, my shoulders, wiggling my toes to revive them from the overnight cold. It has been a long time since I slept in a car, but I remember the cricks and cracks that can follow you around all day. Back then it was different though. Back then I would sleep curled alone on the bench, m