The church steps are littered with bums from bottom to top. They sun themselves like walruses drinking free coffee out of Styrofoam cups. While across the street the local gentry sip espressos on trendy terraces being waited on by those a paycheque away from the steps themselves. I keep walking.
Head on a pillow and clothes on the floor I sweat and shiver, something is wrong. I want someone to call, to come save me, but the woman who used to won’t and the one that will is too far away. This is my future, drool going cold on the sheets, muscles stiffening. I pass out hoping I wake up. I need to make things right.
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