The Human Condition

I was standing around at the general post office in dublin, waiting to get a postal order for my visa renewal application, when I overheard a conversation.

Person 1: A young-ish man, in his late 20s to mid 30s. Tall, well built and with multiple old scars on different areas of his face. His eyes look dull, a bit like he's seen more shit than a person should see in one lifetime (outside of major warfare). Kind of like the eyes of all the impoverished young adults living in Dublin's slums. Life heading towards one of three directions: prison, alcoholism or a violent death at a young age.

Person 2: A middle-aged woman of around mid 40s to early 50s. She stinks of stale smoke. Its the kind of smell you get in your clothes and your hair when you've been smoking heavily for around 20 years and are constantly surrounded by those who are just like you. Her voice is gravely, her laugh is akin to a cackle. Vocal chords have taken a severe pounding at this point. I hope she's not into karaoke.

P1: *inaudible mumbling*.. fuck's sake!
P2: *cackle, cackle*

P1: Why are all the people coming at this time, it makes it so much busier! *looking around menacingly at senior citizens in queue*
P2: *nervous cackle*

P2: You know, you should get your lotto tickets today. The jackpot is around 110 million euros.
P1: *inaudible mumbling*.. here, hold my welfare certs for a minute, will you?
P2: *cackle cackle*

P2: What would you do with 110 million?
P1: I'd lose it all in 2 days.
P2. *cackle* and how would you that? Its hard to drink that much in 2 days.
P1: *serious look* Las Vegas.
P2: *nodding in agreement, thinking of next cigarette*

I really hope he doesn't win the lotto.