London Mirrors 1

CA was at a flower bar sipping on a marigold Tom Collins, pulling off leaves and petals and crunching them in his mouth, trying to look far enough into the distance that his depth perception gave way to foresight, but it didn't work, he crunched down on another leaf. He had theories that everything was layered and that most any problem was a matter of getting through to the right level, it's in there somewhere, and he would keep thinking while listening to music, long, drone sounds that he felt best represented him. Those albums only represented him at certain times, though, and in general he was a treble freak, liked the highs, the lights, the fluttery sounds, those made more sense to him and he thought they were more indicative of the way the mind works. He ordered another drink.