There's not a soul around. It's dark but your eyes get used to that. No sounds except for a few passing cars going nowhere. Or some place I'll never know. What's the difference?

It's chilly but not cold. The hairs on my arms have gone up. I wish I'd grabbed a jacket. I never think. I never realize what I have to do in time. Always just a little later. Always a little bit too late.

I've started to believe that human beings are made of their mistakes. They define us so much. There's nothing more chore human than mistakes, nothing more raw and honest. It's sad to think about it but it's even sadder to ignore it.

I should have brought a jacket.

I get in a 24/7 store and order black coffee. The warmth of it suddenly makes me optimistic. I take my cup and leave a better tip than expected. I start walking. There's no way I'm going home...

...thank you so much for reading.
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