of These Ghost Towns

The office was quiet, calm, but I came in late like a bulldozed pile of rubble; I do not sleep when I need to. The hours dragged on so slowly, but steadily, the job a reliable oasis in a sea of unknowns. She called last night crying. I don't know if I can save him from himself. Life isn't worth much when you don't remember what it is to have hope. The skies cleared tonight, but the afternoon was already dark and it was impossible to see.

The small of my back aches; I must have slept crookedly. We all prefer dark, dusty corners when the spotlight finds out our flaws and throws them in our face, it is as it was. Today, all is death, no matter. Spring will return, the sun will make the spotlight fade to nothing.