Was what was written on a A4 paper pined up on Jake's kitchen white wall, other shedules were nearby :
Monday
-skin care routine
-cleaning house
-resting
-writting
Tuesday Wednesday
-routine -routine
-cardio -full
Thursday Friday
-routine -routine
-abs -arms
Saturday Sunday
-routine -routine
-back -legs
There were post-it everywhere describing what was his skin care, what exercice he had to do at the gym for each day, foods's nutrition, and many other things he knew by heart.
For this style of life, Jake was alike a perfect model of stability however one thing was breaking this image of his, which was his invasive hoby, writting.
It was seducing him every second passing by, calling him, whispering to his mind how bad he wanted to writte whenever and wherever.
That's why he had set a 3 hours rule on his busy days that he was following diligently.
As soon as the alarm rang it had been cut off. The sun was shining, already up in the sky, pigeons were cooing.
Jake checked what day was today, taking his phone on the nightstand it showed Monday thus he started by doing some streches then he checked himself in the bathroom's mirror,
cooked and ate, brushed his teeth, placed himself in front of his laptopt and wrotte for 5 hours while listening to music.
Next he just fell back on his bed, closing his eyes for some minutes, his right forearm covering his face, enjoying the silence.
Now was almost 2pm, he watched videos until 4pm, read for one hours James Ellroy, ate the morning's waste, danced for an hour then wrotte again.
He cleaned the small apartment, took a shower, changed himself in nice street clothing and walked to one of his usual night gay bar.
Entering, as his habitude, he sat at the counter and the barman gave him the same bottle of beer that he almost didn't touched like always.
He waited surrounded by men, old, young, middle aged.
After half an hour of observation of only new faces, he interlocked his gaze with another.
Around a drink they held a short conversation for formalities whereupon they fucked at the stranger's house until nigh fell.
Jake returned 'home', took a shower, threw his clothes in the dirty laundry bin, wrotte once again and went to sleep at 12pm.
Jake meets Mika, Mika meets Jake, and then bit by bit all shatters. A messed up barman/video maker with an invading hobby and a complicated guitarist can engender a puzzling futur, even more when one of them cannot run away from his unhinged mind.
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