Instead of walking to work, I decide to get the tram.

I walk to Nicholson Street.

The ninety-six tram comes.

On the carriage floor there’s an MX, and I pick it up.

On the second page there’s an article that says, ‘Australian cannabis has become more potent over the years and contains high levels of THC, according to a study of samples confiscated from recreational users and growers.’

I imagine the collective weed users and growers of Australia smiling at one another and saying, ‘Yep,’ while nodding.

Over the page there’s a story that begins, ‘Police have arrested the head of a school in eastern India where twenty-three children died after eating a free meal laced with pesticide.’

And I think: fuck.

Over the page in the ‘Weird’ section, there’s a story that reads, ‘A violent robber who broke into a house near Jakarta in Indonesia interrupted his crime to feed and cradle a crying baby.’

And I guess it counts as ‘weird’ because humans are generally ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and not something in between.

I think about Lisa, that night two nights ago, and I feel guilty about feeling happy when twenty-three children were poisoned in eastern India trying to feed themselves in order to stay alive.

The tram stops and the doors open.

Someone leaves, talking on an iPhone, and I hear him say, ‘Yeah, I flew to Bangkok and stayed somewhere on Khao San Road because I wanted to feel like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Beach.’

The tram starts and I close my eyes.

I try to push the thought of the twenty-three dead children out of my head, and I do it too easily.

I think about Lisa and I and lying together in her bed, both waking at four a.m. to kiss before falling asleep once more.

And I wonder if I’m an arsehole for smiling.

I look around, and no one else is smiling.

No one else except for this guy who looks like a junkie, sitting with this girl who also looks like a junkie.

I watch them.

The guy says to the girl, ‘Farking ten bucks.’

Grinning.

And the girl says, ‘Ha ha, you’re on.’

The guy gets up and wobbles a bit and says, ‘Ayyyyy!’ and then, ‘Woah — heyyyyy! Easy now.’

People look terrified.

I watch the guy walk to the end of the tram.

He’s wearing a hat, and as he passes people he says ‘mam’ and ‘pawdner’.

In a mock-Texan accent.

At the end of the tram, he raises his hands and says, ‘Iyiyiyiyiyiyiy!’

And no one turns.

He says, ‘Introducingggggggggggg! THE SICKEST CUNT ALIIIVEEEEE!’

And I try to grin at someone, but everyone is pretending to not currently exist.

The guy begins moving down the aisle.

Sort of, like, slow-motion running.

With his hands out, as if looking for low-fives.

Each time he passes a chair, he slaps it and says, ‘Yeah!’

And people stare out windows.

The junkie-looking guy makes his way back to his girlfriend and collapses into her, and they both laugh, like, ‘HAHAHAHAHA.’

Crumpled together.

With their arms around each other.

They look at each other, and the guy says to the girl, ‘Farking love you.’

And the girl says, ‘Farking love you, too.’

The tram stops and I get off.

I check my bank account.

$521.

I Facebook message Lisa.

I say, ‘Do you want to come bed shopping with me tomorrow? I’m going to SNOOZE. It’ll be cute.’

And just as I walk into the KeepCup warehouse, Lisa messages back: ‘haha okay J’

And it makes me feel happy.

Yeah.

I’ve got no real problems.

Life is good.

I’m so lucky.

It seems unfair.