"The system isn't broken," he says, radiating self-important smugness. "It's designed that way."
I nod, watching the spliff in between his fingers. The only reason I'm listening to his unbearable bollocks is because I want a drag on it, and he seems to know it because he's taking his time. Eventually, he passes it to me and I hungrily inhale the smoke, holding it in my lungs, hoping the drug will numb the incessant drone from this boring man.
"What do you think?" he suddenly asks.
For a moment, I think he might actually be interested in my opinion, but before I can exhale and begin speaking, he continues on an unoriginal speech, plagiarised, no doubt, from some YouTuber he watched earlier in the day. I pass the spliff back to him and stand up.
"Sorry," I say. "I need the toilet."
He nods, turns to the person sitting beside him and continues talking. He won't miss me, I think as I weave through other people.
...
