Sugar

Abstract

Flowers and smiling people and sundown skies appeared before me, everyday miracles in colour, gloss or matte, but I've always been a miserablist and don't particularly care for that sort of thing. For a time there was nothing as terrible as flowers and smiling people and sunsets, but now I've better things to worry about. A few years ago I worked with a guy called Ken, who was tall and smug and broad, and always smelt of oranges and cigarette smoke and too much cologne. He'd come into work and say "It's a beautiful day, today, it is," and I'd say he should go fuck himself with a stick. It was our little joke. We developed photographs at one of the better photographic supply and development places in Wellington, and I should've been happy. It was called Laird's Photographic Supplies and Development. On our sign it said 'Professionals Working For You.' Actual professional photographers came to our place to buy their films and cameras and to have their films developed. I got a staff discount and a whole hour for lunch. My job was to sit in front of a computer screen that was hooked up to one of the two big processors in the back room, which always hummed and smelt of photography and Ken. Ken would sit and hum classic rock tunes and I'd try not to tell him to just please shut up.