Walking through the warehouse, Anna or maybe Kasey points at me and says, ‘What’s my name, bitch!’

And I mumble, ‘Ha ha.’

I look around, and my eyes feel dry.

I look at the ceiling and think: the ceiling would make a nice home for a pigeon.

In the future, when I am reincarnated as a pigeon, I wouldn’t mind living here.

And, in the future, when even pigeons can time-travel, I’ll return to 2013 and shit on my own head repeatedly.

For good luck.

It makes me smile.

I think about Lisa.

I feel good.

I plug lids.

My brother calls.

I stare at my iPhone.

The call rings out.

I keep plugging lids.

I think: call your brother after work.

I go to the kitchen.

I make a cup of tea.

When I return to my bench, Greek Martin Sheen is standing in front of me, plugging lids.

I say, ‘Hey.’

Greek Martin Sheen says, ‘Hey.’

I say, ‘What did you do on the weekend?’

And Greek Martin Sheen says, ‘Nothing.’

We plug lids.

Greek Martin Sheen laughs.

He says, ‘Kept thinking I’d see my dad for some reason. I dunno.’

I say, ‘Like, he was gonna visit you?’

And Greek Martin Sheen says, ‘Yeah. Didn’t, but.’

We keep plugging lids.

And Greek Martin Sheen says, ‘Yeah, I dunno.’