6:00pm Saturday Night

Nearly 6:00pm.
Windows open in my room, and its cold. '50 Words for Snow' playing and that feeling of time being at a premium because I have to tidy my room before leaving for Em's in an hour.
Sea today was rough and deadly looking. No messing with those foamy-poison angry waves. Closed off the breakwater to walkers; 'Do you think those waves could take you?' Andy says.
Twilight seemed to last forever, walking down St James Stree, a pint in the Heart-in-Hand. Thick Saturday pub atmosphere, ghosts of cigarette smoke and the walls stained with alcohol sleep and bits cut from old papers.
Catch the bus, a suspension made in some dodgy Mexican factory, desert-bumpy ride. Teenage girls falls over and laugh and everyone else is quiet.
Just gone 6:00pm.
A cup of tea then turn off the laptop.
Out into the night.