Rainy day. Wearing my fuchsia tights in an effort to bring the bright, though I had to cut the waistband off the top because I’m too old and wise to suffer for something as stupid as a waistband. Van Morrison on the turntable at work. I will take a moment to listen to the sound of cars driving through the rain, the subtle tick-tock of the clock, the hum of the radiator. All around us, a soundtrack is playing.