There's a guy across from me who keeps rubbing his stomach suggestively.

There's a woman who keeps wiping her boogers under the table.

There's a fat dude with his hand down his pants.

There's a skinny girl who foolishly thinks she's fat.

A guy cheering along with sports highlights.

A little girl is pointing and staring at me.

The libary is morphing into a sanitarium before my eyes.

The printer sounds like the Millennium Falcon.

An old crone keeps coughing and laughing at her monitor.

Two smelly ass clowns are trying to gas each other--and everyone else--out of the room.

The sun is hot on my arm by the window.

I'm hungry, bitter, cranky, broke, alone, lathargic, horny, ornery, and whistful.

As I write this, I'm formulating a long-term plan to finally afford a laptop.

I pack up to leave and smile all the way out the door.