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In and Out and Up and Lost and Found

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Waves crash before me onto the bridge below, wetting my windshield. I turn my wipers on and wait. If I drive off now, No one will notice me gone until the storm is gone, and even then it'll be hard to tell if it were suicide or not. But the car, I think, a bit of panic running through my chest. If I drive off in this, they won't have a car. I'll leave, I think.

Tock-Tock The Broken Clock.

Chloe was not the type of person who believed in fate. In fact on her 30th birthday a friend of her had said to her (walking straight supported by Chloe) while they were going out from the bar, where they had spent most of the evening with generally good drinks, that Chloe was a person destined for something great. Then they had walked into another bar where the evening ended pretty uneventful. The next day Chloe´s old boss announced that the company, who dealt exclusively with the investment bank of Lehman Brothers, would have to declare for bankruptcy by the end of the month and fire all of their staff.

“No”, Chloe thought to herself. “I don´t believe in fate”. The bus monitor showed her that her bus was canceled. “But I do believe in really bad days”, and a motorcycle suddenly swept past the sidewalk where she was standing. It actually was so close it´s side-view mirror crashed into her left arm, exactly where Chloe had her newly bought wrist-watch. Suddenly time stopped!


A car drove around the nearby corner and for a moment the headlights of the vehicle was aimed right at where I was standing in a snow pile, trapping me with its white beam of light. I shuddered but I could not move. The memory came back, no, the memories. Grahams voice, his last shriek of terror and anxiety as his death approached, and my hand swinging the metal bar.

The anger in me had been let loose that day, I could not let it be unleashed ever again. It was my fault. A decent judge and maybe an expensive lawyer would convince people of the opposite but I would know the truth and that was enough.

“They can´t catch me” I whispered defiantly as the car finished it´s turn and then accelerated down the cold windy street. Once again I was standing in darkness, my head and thoughts were always black these days so I felt good to finally be surrounded by what my mind consisted of. Cold, dark snow and beneath it, the hard soil and the promise of a final restplace. Tired, so very tired.
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This particular man was no one else than the champion of barrelwrestling, eight-times winner in an epic drinking game with his best four paw friend and a deck of cards all those year ago and humble but honest person, James Underwood.

James was no one special, at least if you asked his mum (who in 9th grade has asked what was wrong because of his top grades), but still he could sort of understand his mums angle.

His only friend, during this trip was supposed to have been his loyal and loveable dog Angie who because of a knee injury had to have been left at home. And how lucky fate would make it since that would do two things. First, it would spare James from the pain of seeing the convulsions and pain that Angie would suffer when she experienced her first and last heart attack in a dog (she died in his mum’s hallway as the woman wondered if the pee stain from Angie could be washed away). Secondly, it would make the friendship between the squirrel and James possible
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