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Ran out of wine at home last night, not even a smidge of foam left.

Today, when I was thinking about looking around for some leftover bottles of wine, I suddenly dug out a monthly pass to the cinema hall from under my bed. The date marked on it made me remember how long I’ve been living in this half-dead state. The devils outside are still loitering around the walls, and nobody dares speak up when they’re outside.

I sure miss the days I could squat in front of the cinema hall and listen to the old ladies chatting. The stuff they’d talk about was so fresh you’d swear it came straight from a movie!

Whenever I found myself bored back then, it’s not like I didn’t have my own ways of getting around. McClaren, the owner of the cinema hall down the road, had a bunch of fresh and weird tapes stashed away, the rare kind you couldn’t find anywhere else. That stuff was as exciting as booze!

Of course, I didn’t have the money to rent those tapes myself, but I knew that McClaren fella had a private screening room where a guy in a gray hat would show up to pass the time every week.

The man in the hat and I never met, I’d be willing to wager that the two of us were pretty much would’ve been chums who could strike it up. After all, we both had a love for the more stimulating stuff. I’d imagine he was also the easily embarrassed type, which is why he always wore that hat and kept his identity tight to avoid that anyone in the family who’d go to watch some blockbuster films.