3 min read
The Gait
It started suddenly. Autumn was coming to an end, the weather was rapidly deteriorating. Busy streets turned into canals filled with icy water and debris. Thin streams ran along the dirty walls and mixed with the long-term patina of rust. An atmosphere of decay, a thick, viscous feeling. It started early in the morning. A piercing sound fell on the sleepers, awakening them from a fragile, painful sleep. Steel, glass, concrete chips, crunch of bones. This lasted about a minute. The insides, turned inside out, tried to gather back into a heap, previously called a man. The eyelids refused to open, in an attempt to save the already shocked mind. Bright. The harsh light hit my eyes and forced me…