Everything outside is black and white.

Blackbirds mainly, but there are also some finches in the mix. No wind rustling through leaves. No distance traffic hum. No children laughing. No insects buzzing. No lawnmowers chewing grass. No clouds overhead. There is a loud, penetrating scream from a cappuccino steamer. There is a loud refridgeration unit keeping ice-cream frozen. Real fruit trapped in ice. Depressed youth trapped in counters. Moving stairs stutter upwards occasionally giving a please-love-me squeek. Recently serviced, love will have to wait another three months.

I sit on outdoor patio furniture. Metal lampposts and potted trees mark the café's border. Did the shopping centre grow up around this café, slowly coming out of the ground, pretending to be a mountain? All that is missing is rain. But it never rains here. Dust gathers. Depression deepens. Smile at the customer. Rain would give more reality to this façade of happiness. Sunshine is not allowed entry as it reminds people of that other place, that forbidden country, that imaginary void that is real life. Purchase shrink-wrapped sun-beams. They never burn out. Clouds never block them. They tan your soul a beautiful shade of joy.

A strong urge to shriek at the top of my lungs grabs me. I'm not the only one. A child wails. Reverberating down the large, high glass panes that hold reality back, it's a reminder. Of simpler times. They refuse sunshine, those panes. Neon does a better job. They refuse colour. Dye does a better job. They refuse wildlife. Speakers do a better job.