I am in a stylish shop and waiting for you and you are going to be about 10 minutes late and in those 10 minutes I am at high risk of a Phsh attack. They strike in dead time. I am in an all white shop in a dead 10 minutes with a predefined, now obsolete, function. It is dead time and I try on some jeans and they don’t really fit. I try on some jeans and I tell you a joke and you fall in love with me and obviously I don’t how long it is for you because you are approx. 7kg lighter than me and you are sitting down. I am in the shop for maybe 20 minutes and we have a conversation that is definitely superfluous to the fairly basic vocals required for this transaction. You ask me if the waist is alright and I wonder if you are implying that you know I am heavier than you and if Phsh are flowing from the point of high temporal pressure around me to the lower area around you. I wonder if you are slowly being shut out. Serves you right for your white cube shop. Someone has spent a lot of time decorating this shop so it looks like it hasn’t been decorated. I am getting changed in the changing room and I am very aware that I am nearly naked and it is just the two of us. I am aware the I had a jawline and told you a joke all at once. I am aware that the lighting is not flattering and that I could see each asteroid crater of teenage angst in your skin. I am aware the grease on my nose was probably shining above you, a great beacon of broke.