clothesI felt the scratching material running over my skin like hot sand in the Sahara. "I'll be back in a couple of hours.", I said stiffly, almost numb.
"Fine.", he replied, his eyes focusing on the door as if there was a Hollywood movie playing on it.
I stepped outside the house, right into a puddle of mud. It was a cold and windy September day, no birds were singing and barely any cars passing by. I would just go to the woods, sit down on a bench, relax, maybe smoke a cigarette or two.
Step by step, my boots got wetter and wetter. So did my jacket. It was one of these old ones, those which they wore in the 80's movies I enjoyed so much. He had gotten it for my last birthday back in December of the last year - a very cold December. I remembered how the snowflakes wouldn't stop falling, flake by flake on the lifeless and grey ground, I remembered how he and I would run out the house, across the street right onto the field, we would build snowmen and have a snowball fight, we would giggle, l
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