I guess the story ends a little like this, hopefully it won’t take but a bit.
We woke up, unsure of the day. Knowing nothing but our names. “Thursday?”
“No man, it’s Monday.”
White walls, concrete floors, cigarette butts, dirty clothes, filthy bodies, unwashed hands, obvious flaws, and to think we said we could handle it at all.
23 missed calls
48 new text messages
well, fuck it.
Both taking a turn with the mirror, and it resumes.
Both sweating out any hopes that we had once saved up.
Wasting life, smoking up joy, killing time, barely ever making sense, and throwing it all down the drain we never fixed.
Not sure why,
Not sure how,
Not shit and this is the beginning.
to be continued.