Thursday, December 18, 2014


Another sleepless day. It was 5:40 PM, or thereabout, according to the clock. Legs rose out of bed and looked around his small, dark room. "I need to get some rest," he thought, "it's been a few days since I last slept." He had grown quite tired at that point after three days of no sleep, with the room beginning to spin around him and his head beginning to feel swollen. He pushed off the bed covers and walked into his kitchen. Looking into his meager supply of food, he felt disheartened. "I've been lurking here for far too long," he muttered out loud, "I've already burned through the groceries." He looked outside his kitchen window on the third floor of Dreamwood Terrace. Blue Boulevard. The K-Roger's sign beamed with an unsightly vibrancy. "I might as well," he thought, "there's gotta be something I can afford."

Before stepping out the door, Legs grabbed his pipe from under the silverware tray. Admiring the stains and murky streaks, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt pass through him as he loaded it. "Just a pick-me-up", he thought. A "jolt", to say the least, but he was used to it and it no longer bothered him. He rolled a small joint and smoked it as well before he stepped outside of his apartment, his lungs immediately pierced by the non-congested air of outside his apartment. "Minty fresh", he chuckled softly. Walking outside of the Dreamwood Terrace Apartments, he was startled at how foggy it was. Winter had been pretty mild for the residents of the city thus far in the year, and the occasional fog was not out of the ordinary. However, something felt off that evening. At least, he felt that way. Legs was a nervous guy, to say the least. He didn't have many friends, or people that he associated with. Just general acquaintances: people that he recognized or had spoken to in the past. He felt like people were out to get him. Not the people at K-Roger's, however. They made him feel safe.

Upon entering the store, Legs immediately felt better. Fresh baked goods, an extensive produce section, and discounted deals: he was in grocery heaven. The manager Jim even greeted him upon his entry. In a time when he felt like he was constantly pent-up inside, it was refreshing for him to step into a different environment. After leaving, however, he began to feel like he was going to pass out. He felt weak and his knees grew wobbly. "I need to sleep" he muttered. He quickly noted his food, and with such, looked past his sickly feelings. "A few good eats," he thought, "it'll last me a little while. Long enough, maybe." He needed to get home.

Dreamwood Terrace was as dead as usual. Very little noise, very few people moving about, a real ghost town of an apartment complex. Legs entered his apartment settled back into his routine: locking the doors, checking the blinds, clearing his belongings off of the table. Except this time, he didn't grab his pipe. Collapsing onto his couch, he realized how exhausted he was. "I really, really should get some sleep" he thought. "Sleep", "sleep", it was always on his mind. He never felt like he had enough. He set that aside, however, and decided to watch some TV. As he began to turn on the TV, all of the electricity suddenly cut out in his apartment, leaving him enshrouded in darkness. "Fuck it, might as well", he murmured as he slipped into unconsciousness.