Pastiche of sad

Then I suddenly had the most tremendous feeling of the pitifulness of human beings, whatever they were, their faces, pained mouths, personalities, attempts to be gay, little petulances, feelings of loss, their dull and empty witticisms so soon forgotten.

I’ve been at this AirBnb for almost a week. It’s my third visit. The host has a room across the landing. I haven’t seen her once - although there are signs of her presence. A half eaten cake. Dirty dishes washed.

This living room is clearly unloved in. It’s neatness and forced jollity spark an ineffable pathos. The unlounged lounger. The crystallised contradiction of an ornamental “Hello”.

Tonight’s my last night. I eat at the Piedmont Social Club happy hour (3 hours of slightly cheaper beer and half price snacks). And when I return there’s silence in the apartment.