Temporal Displacement and a Side of Toast in Book Two

It’s a four-day holiday weekend which means crowds at my favourite breakfast restaurant and later near the harbour. I’ll make toast. I want to watch the news anyway and see what that idiot in the White House announced in the Rose Garden.

(I thought they were going to pave over the Rose Garden. That idiot can’t leave anything alone.)

I like being half a day away. My morning is your night. My today is your tomorrow. I have holidays. You don’t. You have holidays. I don’t. You have an ice storm. I have a regular day. Being half a step out of time is a little disorienting. It forces you to see the world through a different lens.