Patricia's Wellness Journal
My footsteps echo strangely off wet concrete in the small hours of the night. I glide through the profusion of sound against steel, concrete and glass, under my umbrella, stray frozen droplets stinging my face.
Sam guides me safely through the misty blur of the harsh reality beyond the rim of my umbrella, navigating around sodden piles of trash some assholes dump in the middle of the footpath. He’s a good dog. Apart from him, I’m alone in the silent, dark, street, not even a car passing by to break the silence. It’s a relief to finally enter Maxine’s apartment building despite the worn, rat-eaten, carpet and peeling wallpaper.
|The Conspiracy Board|