I live on a very busy road, and every morning you see them slogging along the footpath in twos and threes, power walking, with such grimly determined faces you'd think that they were going on a death march and not taking a stroll. God help anyone who dares to impede their goose-stepping progress. You know the ones I mean - they're the people you see in the supermarket buying unprocessed kelp and probiotic carrot juice, when us normal people have bacon and corn chips in their trolleys.
I catch snippets of their conversations sometimes. In the mornings they talk about what a hard day they're going to have at work, and in the evenings they talk about what a hard day they've had at work. (I have no idea what they talk about on the weekend - I invariably stick my head out the window and yell at them to shut up).
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