“Club sandwich!” the dread-haired hipster called out over the din, “anyone order the ‘club’?”
“Me!” I shot my hand toward the ceiling, eager and starving having missed breakfast that morning.
It was one of those trendy new places, like in L.A., but in Grimsby.
It wasn’t exactly in the best part of town either; the light shining through the trees from the adjacent cemetery and decorating the shop with laser beams.
He threw the sandwich towards me and over the crowd; flying in its space-aged silver wrapper it landed on the floor, destined to be trampled under a stranger’s foot.