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Ever get the feeling that you've just wasted a day?

Like in spite of being praised for your work ethic, you fall asleep at your computer at work with someone breathing down your back and still manage to put out the same amount of work by the end of the day.

Or sitting on the skytrain and realizing that you've long since missed your stop, even though you didn't have to be on the damned thing in the first place.

Sitting alone in a room, eating dinner at school for no reason. Watching the houses go by on the bus, lulled into a false sense of boredom.

Getting off the bus in front of Sev, deciding against buying stamps, chosing instead to close your eyes and navigate home by feel, because you know this place off by heart.

This house beside you is a grow-op and that vacant lot down there at the end of the block is where Ming's used to be. It always smelled like juicy fruit and five-cent candies. The Mings had five children and you played with one until they all moved to the top of the hill and you never saw them again.

Over there is where the bus used to stop, and over there is where you had a huge nosebleed when you were 8. Here is where you first met the little cat with the forked tail that belongs to a boy named Steven. You used to be his lunch monitor. His teacher used to bring you cookies that her husband had baked until he died. After that it was novelty socks that you never wore but still have to this day.

And you don't open your eyes until you find yourself face to face with the bumper of a car in the centre of five lanes.

And when you get home, you find your bedroom ransacked.