Cursed Dreams
Brianna shivered, pulling her threadbare coat tighter as she walked. “I must be cursed,” she muttered, trudging through the slush on her way to work. “Really, truly, cursed.”
The sky was dark and gray, the wind cold and damp. Brianna caught the sweet-sour smell of garbage as she walked down the narrow alley. She was going to be late. Scratch that — she was already late.
Because she couldn’t afford rubber boots, her feet were going to be cold and wet all day. Her car chose a wonderful day to have a dead battery.
At least I hope that’s what’s wrong with it.
As she walked, Brianna allowed herself to reflect on yesterday’s events. “I’m better off without that drunk loser anyway,” she said out loud, causing a passerby to turn and look at her. He quickly glanced away before making eye contact.
Great. Now I’m crazy, talking to myself out here on the street.
Finally, wet and cold, she pushed through the double doors and entered the library. Her footsteps echoed through the empty building. She gave an apologetic nod to the receptionist before heading upstairs to her office.
She hung up her coat, shook out her curly strawberry-blonde hair, and sat down at her desk.
“…curse you through this lifetime and beyond. …this lifetime and beyond.”
