‘You see this? I fucking told them,’ I say. Inside the magazine a guy (dressed tastefully in a navy sweater, blue jeans and blue brogues) lounges on some stairs. ‘I told them monochrome was coming back in.’ Josh doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns on the kettle and begins to stair absent-mindedly out the window.
‘Still raining.’ I take it upon myself to fill the silence. ‘It’s like an absolute monsoon out there. Went out to get my post earlier and was only outside for what, a minute? Completely drenched.’ He seems to be nodding. Either that or his head is slightly moving back and forth, I can’t quite tell. I tap the magazine again, reinforcing my point. ‘This though. They never listen to me.’
‘I think Ani might have died,’ I say. ‘I texted her to say that Space Jam is on LoveFilm. No response. Probably a heart attack.’
The kettle boils and Josh starts to make a cup of tea. I take to scrolling through my phone instead. Like a flame, a complaint strikes up in my mouth.
‘Friend on Facebook just posted a status: “omg in such a bad mood” with a little sad face.’ A flicker of recognition flashes across Josh’s face. I’m not sure if he’s just thinking about adding another sugar. ‘Why do people constantly feel like they need to notify us how they’re feeling? What’s wrong with just… I don’t know, keeping things to yourself?’
Josh adds a dash of milk and makes towards the door. I look back at the guy in the magazine – is there a slight blue tinge to his hair? This is ridiculous.
‘I’ll see you later.’ Josh says. ‘I’m going to go smash my head against the desk.’