Score

Another day of rain, it lies like a heavy fog at the top of 1st avenue and below 14th street drizzles in every direction. I rife through drawers and bathroom cupboards for escape pods, but they offer little outside of a coating of cotton around my nerve cells. Pack a bag for summer escape but bring your warm clothes, wonder what it is you're trying to prove. He tells you about undergraduate poets and your laugh gets stuck in your throat; perhaps you haven't graduated, yourself.

The days race ahead without reprieve. You wonder if you'll make it to the end.