Status: Active - I'm planning on less than ten chapters.
Split Screen
Taxi
“You look like you’re a cross country road trip and a taxi cab ride away from understanding what I just said.”
Everyone’s eyes snap to the focus of his attention.
He just folds his arms.
-
My moods are equivalent to the weather – blue skies are for good days, gray clouds only mean trouble, that sort of thing. But clear, sunny days such as today – though it is deceptively cold – fall (a lot of times) on the most stressful moments. I can provide no logical reasoning behind this. In fact, I’m pretty sure there is none. Yet, in a sort of twisted, sometimes sarcastic sort of sense, the weather is my insides spread above me. This is why I look up almost every time I walk outside. This is why I’m looking up now.
There’s a few people straggling about, but I don't want to stick around long enough to witness the all too familiar sight of several droves of people simultaneously exiting the surrounding buildings.
I have a destination in mind, and its route is vaguely imprinted in memory. Just give me at least fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, this scheduled rush hour starts in ten. I trip over air, crunch over leaves, and pound against cement. I almost fall down a flight of stairs. Luckily, no one saw that.
This jacket I’m wearing isn’t helping much. Maybe I should have stopped to get a hot beverage of some sort. I am so fucking cold.
Everyone’s eyes snap to the focus of his attention.
He just folds his arms.
-
My moods are equivalent to the weather – blue skies are for good days, gray clouds only mean trouble, that sort of thing. But clear, sunny days such as today – though it is deceptively cold – fall (a lot of times) on the most stressful moments. I can provide no logical reasoning behind this. In fact, I’m pretty sure there is none. Yet, in a sort of twisted, sometimes sarcastic sort of sense, the weather is my insides spread above me. This is why I look up almost every time I walk outside. This is why I’m looking up now.
There’s a few people straggling about, but I don't want to stick around long enough to witness the all too familiar sight of several droves of people simultaneously exiting the surrounding buildings.
I have a destination in mind, and its route is vaguely imprinted in memory. Just give me at least fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, this scheduled rush hour starts in ten. I trip over air, crunch over leaves, and pound against cement. I almost fall down a flight of stairs. Luckily, no one saw that.
This jacket I’m wearing isn’t helping much. Maybe I should have stopped to get a hot beverage of some sort. I am so fucking cold.