Earlier that afternoon Jesus had sat swaying gently on the tram, mirroring its motion. He was on his way back from the immigration department in the city when he began to yearn for a drink. Just one single drink. He got off the tram and stood on the footpath looking across at a pub: The Queen and Country. Jesus had never been inside, but its exterior was as familiar as the ugly scuff marks on his one pair of dress shoes.
Sitting here in the bar now, Jesus realised that it was more than four hours ago since the idea of having one lonely drink had crossed his mind. He was now such a part of the place he couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to.
Jesus didn’t know what he wanted. It was such a plain and beautiful truth that he marvelled at it: the power of not knowing, of needing to know and not understanding. He really wanted to pee.