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Description
...
Self-defence. She blocked my way, I needed to get out. Self-defence.
The dog was of no use, tripping over its own legs and shivering, occasionally snapping at nothing. Going to work, okay. I got the keys; gonna go to sleep, and log into the system in the morning; start a shift as usual. It's not the first time. Not my first time running away.
She stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the green light, just out of habit, no cars in this dead town, not at two in the morning. Hard to tell which of the light is for cars and which is for me, all a big blur, that's why they made the lights click. For people with disabilities. Unlucky, fragile people. Not you.
The clicking seemed faster than usual. As if it was scared. It's just me. Hey. It's me, again. Don't you recognize me?
Focus. Where was the bus station? How often do buses run at night? Should've looked it up. You knew this would happen. It always happens. Always! Go just a little deeper and hit the cold, hard glass. Sometimes it breaks, and then it's sharp, and then it hurts.
Self-defence.
Glass fibers, leaving splinters, don't touch them.
You should leave the city for good. The country, perhaps. Heck, the entire damn planet.
The city doesn't hate you, but it sure has no respect.
The adrenaline wears off faster than usual. It's over, no fight, no flight; why do we have to keep doing it?
To keep warm, you stupid dog. Fight, flight, or freeze. There used to be a bakery near the bus stop, those open early, could get something from there...
Losing it. Losing control. Ten minutes left to walk now; you can do it, nothing was ever so bad it couldn't last for ten more minutes. Don't think. Just walk. Tired, cold, that's fine. How will you even ask for the food? Just get to the station and don't fall asleep there. It's starting to snow again. Suddenly getting even colder. Ignore it. Go faster. Keep the exact same speed; keep the time. Don't slow down. You won't make it through the night if you stop here; you're running on empty now. If they find you, they catch you; if they catch you, it's the end. Cold metal and glass, salt water and formaldehyde.
Almost there; must be so. Three minutes away, maybe. Don't miss the turn. You're almost there. Got some coins in your pockets, you can at least buy coffee at the vending machine, that one never sleeps, never requires talking; maybe living things are overrated, when you think about it like this. Cup of coffee, glass of coffee? Cup of glass?
This was already way more than three minutes. Or ten. Where am I, anyway?
And the snow, it just keeps falling.

_____

A slightly edited fragment of a story I'm struggling to write; I was going to draw the chapter illustrations anyway, it's not procrastination! It's not actually a trilogy, it's one continuous story in three chapters; story itself is called "hey it's me again" (the lowercase is mandatory); this is the very ending of 'shadows', which I wrote maybe in August and haven't progressed much since then. And now that I'm thinking about it, do standard crosswalk lights make the clicking noise, or do people from outside my city/country have no idea what that's about? And now I'm looking up videos with traffic lights at half past three in the morning. Could've been writing instead...
Anyway. I'm not even sure if I'm writing anything at all now or if this is a dream, things have been all kinds of strange lately; I'm going to sleep and hope to wake up on the right side of reality this time.

Description
...
Self-defence. She blocked my way, I needed to get out. Self-defence.
The dog was of no use, tripping over its own legs and shivering, occasionally snapping at nothing. Going to work, okay. I got the keys; gonna go to sleep, and log into the system in the morning; start a shift as usual. It's not the first time. Not my first time running away.
She stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the green light, just out of habit, no cars in this dead town, not at two in the morning. Hard to tell which of the light is for cars and which is for me, all a big blur, that's why they made the lights click. For people with disabilities. Unlucky, fragile people. Not you.
The clicking seemed faster than usual. As if it was scared. It's just me. Hey. It's me, again. Don't you recognize me?
Focus. Where was the bus station? How often do buses run at night? Should've looked it up. You knew this would happen. It always happens. Always! Go just a little deeper and hit the cold, hard glass. Sometimes it breaks, and then it's sharp, and then it hurts.
Self-defence.
Glass fibers, leaving splinters, don't touch them.
You should leave the city for good. The country, perhaps. Heck, the entire damn planet.
The city doesn't hate you, but it sure has no respect.
The adrenaline wears off faster than usual. It's over, no fight, no flight; why do we have to keep doing it?
To keep warm, you stupid dog. Fight, flight, or freeze. There used to be a bakery near the bus stop, those open early, could get something from there...
Losing it. Losing control. Ten minutes left to walk now; you can do it, nothing was ever so bad it couldn't last for ten more minutes. Don't think. Just walk. Tired, cold, that's fine. How will you even ask for the food? Just get to the station and don't fall asleep there. It's starting to snow again. Suddenly getting even colder. Ignore it. Go faster. Keep the exact same speed; keep the time. Don't slow down. You won't make it through the night if you stop here; you're running on empty now. If they find you, they catch you; if they catch you, it's the end. Cold metal and glass, salt water and formaldehyde.
Almost there; must be so. Three minutes away, maybe. Don't miss the turn. You're almost there. Got some coins in your pockets, you can at least buy coffee at the vending machine, that one never sleeps, never requires talking; maybe living things are overrated, when you think about it like this. Cup of coffee, glass of coffee? Cup of glass?
This was already way more than three minutes. Or ten. Where am I, anyway?
And the snow, it just keeps falling.

_____

A slightly edited fragment of a story I'm struggling to write; I was going to draw the chapter illustrations anyway, it's not procrastination! It's not actually a trilogy, it's one continuous story in three chapters; story itself is called "hey it's me again" (the lowercase is mandatory); this is the very ending of 'shadows', which I wrote maybe in August and haven't progressed much since then. And now that I'm thinking about it, do standard crosswalk lights make the clicking noise, or do people from outside my city/country have no idea what that's about? And now I'm looking up videos with traffic lights at half past three in the morning. Could've been writing instead...
Anyway. I'm not even sure if I'm writing anything at all now or if this is a dream, things have been all kinds of strange lately; I'm going to sleep and hope to wake up on the right side of reality this time.