NaNoWriMo: 3

I've been trying to write about my first proper job - a small shop in a small town, three co-workers, pleasant conditions, Monday to Friday for about eight or nine months.

The part I remember is that behind the shop was an alley, and I loved it. The walls on either side were about two-storeys high, dark brick, no windows, and it felt like a very narrow shady canyon. It was like walking into another world, always dark and cool.

But as for the shop, and what exactly I did there, or what the other people did, or what they were like, or the specifics of the place and the tasks and our daily conversations...? I could write a very long list of all the things I can't recall, and you'd swear I'd never been there at all.

This personal little NaNo quest has already shown me something important: I don't forget things because my memory is crap, I forget them because I never notice them in the first place. I'm floating through life without ever touching down. I'm stuck in a bubble of my own thoughts and feelings.

And that can't be good, reader. Stuck in a bubble? Bloody hell.

Word count = 2,632. (Laugh and you die.)