Either a spooky severed hand, or a black cat. Maybe covered in blood? That’d be awesome.
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You know that daylight will not last for long, though. The night cometh.
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Why would you willingly participate in a sweaty torture chamber day in and day out for a slightly thinner version of yourself?
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Your eyes flutter open to the sight of nothing. It’s dark. So dark.
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There is an offensive amount of pink in the world. It mocks you. The very concept of chocolate, of love, of happiness mocks you.
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The man stares at you. You stare back at him. Your eyes beg for mercy.
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Studying on the Skytrain counts. It’s all you need. You’re not convinced.
