XXVII. Hitting Reds.

“It's a hitting all the red lights kind of day,” I tell the little martian.

His eyes dart up like a melodramatic Bharatnatyam dancer, “Talking to me?” He says in an exaggerated Apu, from The Simpsons accent.

“Yes,” I say sheepishly. Luckily the martian has been busy as well, he doesn’t give me shit for being a self-absorbed pseudo-intellectual.

“Why’d you think you're hitting reds?” He asks

“I don’t know, I think it's just one of those days when stuff feels kind of out of balance, all untethered and shit."

“You say that every day..” He chuckles

“Ya, but today was like undeniably red light-y, I even vented to a complete stranger at lunch”

“You do that every week, it's no biggie”

We elapse into a momentary headbanging silence as Bon Jovi echoes my self-pitying sentiments.

I'm going to pick up all the pieces and what's left of my pride

Bon Jovi gives way to Bobby McFerrin telling me not to worry and suddenly I'm humming all jauntily with a scowl. Thank god, no-one else is in the room.

Footsteps in the lobby stagger as they pass 728.

She must be on something they giggle.

“You’ve completely cut me out of the equation” mumbles the martian, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the fan and mellow Bobby insisting I 'don’t worry!'

“I'm sorry, I'm doing a whole stream of consciousness thing, and my consciousness is a little crowded at the moment” He fades in and out of view and I'm not sure I catch what he’s saying, there’s too much going on. I wave bye at him and give him my customary “I think we know each other” hallway smile as he shimmers out of view

He raises his fingers in a peace sign looking like a green hippie from the 70s

He mouths something

I'm not sure whether he says ‘flower power’ or ‘you need a shower'

Either way, I feel a little lighter.