I sit up on the bed, naked legs crossed under a blanket. Streetlight creeps through a crack between the curtain and the wall. A dim line marks the location of the door. Little yellow, red, and orange lights, the locations of electrical appliances. One is the phone that this is later typed on. Otherwise it is pitch dark.
The air is cold, from an air conditioner - it gasps and wheezes through the blower, calmly. I cough, as phelgm appears to be creeping out of my lungs - the body's natural reaction to dust exposure. 27 hours ago, I was working a belt sander on some toilet doors. 18 hours ago, I was accompanying some baristas who were testing out a new academic program for their trainees. At this moment, some of those baristas and two trainees are probably in the cafe across the street. In the days to come, I must invent a kitchen service.
Some business partners banter in amusement as they watch. Others express fear in being associated with such a program. Some actively help. Of course, we have encountered the usual local thuggery, some livid customers, truant staff, difficult service providers, problematic stray animals, et al.
There is no one waiting for me within, or beyond these doors. I concern myself with this project, and not its people. I find myself only somewhat well, for reduced budgets of sleep, food, and exercise. I feel, that all is well. This is what I trained for, and that is why it comes as no surprise to me.
All there is to do, is operate now on the variables that remain, in order to discover if we can make this business viable. It is 3 a. m..