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 who walks among the famous living dead, ezrah
years old 7 posts PM
downtown at midday was hell. people poured out of high rises like a flood of roaches, filling every eatery in the vicinity to the brim. without a car, he couldn't go very far. not that he wanted to in the thick layer of snow that blanketed the city. at times like this, musa preferred to hide in the dark corners of the morgue. but if he didn't grab lunch now he would spend the next twelve hours on an empty stomach.

he was beginning to regret it. sitting in the middle of a cafe, his hunger suddenly evaporated as he felt the beginnings of a migraine. the light in the lowly lit cafe seemed too bright, and everyone was definitely talking too loud. discombobulated snippets of conversations drifted to him, none of them very nice. it seemed fate wanted him to spend the rest of his shift on an empty stomach after all.

shoving his untouched sandwich into the overlarge pocket of his coat, musa got to his feet. praying to a god he didn't believe in, he hoped he would be able to get back into the familiar walls of the hospital. he'd had worse, obviously, but that didn't make his current condition feel any better.

fresh air hit his face like a spiked bat and musa felt better for a second, but one look at the street took away any relief he might have had, as the sun turned the snow an offending shade of white. he cursed under his breath. it was one of those days.

ezrah mirzaei
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