Afterthoughts

( My hands are shaking. My feet are sore. My mind is cluttered. My heart is heavy. )

( The gears started to grind two weeks ago, and the last bits of the breakdown had finally synched tonight. )

The sun was starting to blue and blur the world around me when the Number 7 finally spat my half-awakened corpse onto the wet pavement at the threshold of Chinatown. The Troll said something to me as i passed, but i didn't acknowledge him. A ghost at the door of a bakery tried to breath a vanilla curse onto me, but my apathy made it a cough of flour that i brushed off of one sleeve. I kept walking. I knew where i was going this morning.

( the Color Department. )

Fourteen hours in the Dungeon. Then sleep. No Dreams, as i would have expected it. And when the sun came back to Seattle i was in the sky ( again. )

I drive a PT Cruiser. #12. I call her Deucer( ... )