The day had turned out alright, really. Steve had to admit that despite the crummy night of sleep and the whole mess around the coffee shop, he had managed to make it back to work and picked up right where he'd left off. The usual knots in the system were handled, the mail was taken and sent on schedule.
Not that he'd forgotten his reaction that morning. But going over and over it in his head as he'd fallen into routine, he wondered if he just was drifting too far into fictions because he wasn't focused on enough but work in his regular life. Maybe he really was getting boring.
Clutching the small paper bag from the grocer's with a fresh box of chamomile tea he stood in front of the rows of mailboxes for his apartment building, his own box open as he thumbed through a few of the letters. Two junk mail, two bills, but one special issue of motorcycle monthly and a newsletter from his favorite book club outlining their book schedule for the next month. He smiled, pleased at himself as he read through the titles. He wasn't boring enough to go crazy, surely. Maybe he just had to make some extra effort to socialize and engage his brain in reality.