CoffeeShop Blues: 2015 Traveler's Edition - Page 43

Jeremy Frost They provided a nice supply of warmth it was transported spoonful by spoonful from the outside world into my grateful stomach which seemed to still retain some of the steaming heat a good half hour after the meal was over. Dark when the day started, dark when the day ended, no wonder they call it the London blues. The shock and sadness was still fresh. Tears gently sat back, letting you know they were ready to go at the slightest hair trigger. The day rolled by. Dog tired I headed back to my temporary lodging. I removed the inmate phone from the scratched shiny steel call box and called up to Fedor’s apartment. There was no answer. I tried a number of times over the next hour as well as repeated calls to his cell phone but to no avail. It did not look good. Strange, I thought. This guy was pretty dependable. My cousin’s place was out of the question. I could not by any means poke my head in to their grief after one night away. It was just not right. I did feel awkward again at going back to my sisters, since I did not want to offend her partner who had encouraged me to leave. I was in a bind though and again, had no place to stay. At least it wasn’t snowing. It did however begin raining heavily. Fuck. I called Emelia but she was not answering. Fuck. I was just going to have to swallow my pride, get onto the train and arrive at their doorstep, wet and bedraggled. She would understand and old Gustave would just have to be onerous and whiney behind closed doors all evening. I hurried to Kings Cross. I ran to the platform and looked at all the rows of red led lights only to read NO MORE TRAINS, next to the platform of the very one I needed. I was apparently shit out of luck. But then I cast aside my tragic consequences and decided to fight fire with fire. I was going to fight the forces of melancholy by morphing into my superhero alter-ego Mr. Super Emo. It was time to take the Emo into overdrive. My emo delusion was thus; I was a man beset on all sides by forces of sadness and had found himself alone, wet, and without a place to lay his weary head in a strange, unforgiving land. Would I 43