Not A Typical Day

Alarm rings on an old cellphone because I fail to remember to buy a new clock.
Shower, shave with an old razor, dress for Friday casual.
Grab a water bottle out of the fridge and put it in my travel bag. Slam a small glass of OJ.
The street of my neighborhood is dark and quiet and empty as I walk to meet the bus.
I wish I had a cigarette as I wait alongside the misty highway and stare at headlights that I want to be my bus.
I board the bus and sit in the overly lit quiet, this time I don't sleep or doze.
The bus fills. Later, much later, we empty at the public transportation station.
I ride to the central station and change my direction to North.
I continue on the train one stop past my usual workplace stop.
I walk down the street to Publix and buy 3 packs of smokes, separately, to get cash back on each purchase.
Leaving Publix, I take the long route to my work and pass construction workers, a closed strip club, and a college campus.
I thoroughly enjoy my first cigarette of the day.
I get coffee at Starbucks.
I hit an ATM and withdraw the maximum amount allowed for the calendar day.
Work.
Lunch.
More work.
I wait outside of my building for a ride home, smoking a cigarette under shelter from the rain, and saying "cya" to random folks.
My ride and I depart and roll into traffic, rainy Friday traffic.
We arrive at my friend's house.
I hand him a sum of cash.
He hands me the keys to a car.
I drive myself home in my newly purchased used car.
I remember the feeling of freedom, which is wispy like hope and sudden like passion.
Not a typical day.