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The Restless Receptionist

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“I am the average man”, I thought. “The middle bourgeois. I have no wife, no children, no parents, no wife, wife, wife…” I gulped. “I should be enjoying my solitude, but for some reason, I can’t. Maybe even in solitude, in order for it to be enjoyed, there are some prerequisites. Don’t bother asking me what exactly, however, because if I said I knew, I would be lying, and if I actually knew, I wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony drinking beer and thinking about all this bullshit. Nonetheless, if the happy solitude, the absolutely perfect solitude, is succeeded through specific prerequisites, which are they?”.
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