God Died Sometime during the Twentieth Century, I'm Pretty Sure.
One and Done
Currently, I’m walking through he woods. To my left, after a sparse grouping of trees, is a highway. I would be able to hear the cars clearly if I ever decided to take out my headphones. I keep walking. Judging by how many songs I’ve listened to, I’ve been taking this walk for about twenty minutes. Subconsciously, I pick at a scab on my neck. With all the mental fervor of a teenager, being that I am one, I wonder at existence. I’m soon to realize a quick wit doesn’t get you very far in just about any field. Perhaps excluding the Quick Wit and Snappy Comebacks field.
A sharp pain in my side snaps me out of my musings about that show that aired on the Science Channel last night. I’ve lost track of the time. Staring at the sky, even though I know it won’t help me figure out exactly how long I’ve been taking this walk, I spin sharply on my left foot 180 degrees. I walk home.
A sharp pain in my side snaps me out of my musings about that show that aired on the Science Channel last night. I’ve lost track of the time. Staring at the sky, even though I know it won’t help me figure out exactly how long I’ve been taking this walk, I spin sharply on my left foot 180 degrees. I walk home.