Four years is not. Long. Enough.

Two guys were standing outside having a cigarette oblivious to the storms of anxiety raging in my soul.  I sighed deeply, but timed it badly, as I managed to inhale seventeen tonnes of second-hand smoke.  I squeezed passed the smokers, as they were courteous enough NOT to make any space for pedestrians.  I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation.  I could have killed them with my one-touch-Ninja-jab, but decided to spare their lives.  I had bigger fish to fry.

I grabbed the handle of the glass-door and swung it open.

The disgusting smell of nicotine was replaced by something worse.  An odour straight from a troll’s armpit, attacked my nostrils.  Somehow I suppressed the urge of flight and made it to the counter.  The rude receptionist barely looked up.  What a great day I was having, being ignored twice. Continue reading