It's easier to run
You gotta roll with it
You gotta take your time
You gotta say what you say
Don't let anybody get in your way
'Cause it's all too much for me to take
Oasis blared out from the tinny speakers and infiltrated the small residence of Tom Oakland.
"Roll with it. What does that mean anyway?" he asked out loud.
Don't ever stand aside
Don't ever be denied
You wanna be who'd you'd be
If you're coming with me
"I am who'd I'd be" Tom muttered, laughing. He was entering the state of delirium that accompanied working on his news column for 6 hours with nothing but a few topic sentences scribbled down.
"Except I don't 'roll with it'; IÃ¢ÂÂ¦ run with it" (whatever 'it' is) Where in the hell did that come from, he wondered idly.
He got up from his desk to refill his caffeine supply.
As he reached out to turn on the kettle he recoiled at his distorted reflection. He had always been secretly proud of his appearance: while friends' hairlines were greying and receding, he had maintained the head of black hair he'd carried as a teenager (maybe just a bit thinner in the later years). Unfortunately the kettle also reflected the rest of his face. Deprived of sleep for at least 14 hours, his eyes had developed prominent pouches, enhanced by the few millimetres of blackish stubble on his jaw. Shaking his head, Tom prepared the coffee and returned to his seat.
The music was probably part of his distraction but he loathed turning it off. It was his comfort in the small hours of the morning, and ever since he had moved from home he hadn't discarded the privilege of playing music at full volume. He had to do the...