Red velvet warmth

For a moment, then for another moment life flickers into pleasantness, into a gentle warm feeling that things are not going to go wrong.  Because they don't, really, not as much as my mind predicts - no that approaching man in the hoodie is no more likely to stab me than I am to stab him.  I am wearing a hoodie too.  Gosh, if only I could stay in that red velvety warmth and not be dragged I to this insufferably cold paranoia.

It looked like wax, an interesting form but the position gave away it was gunge leaking from the man's eye, and I felt a little shiver of revulsion.  And I thought about the ways to tell the story: laughing at the poor man, empathising with his struggles.  The struggles are real, fam.  But then there was no one to tell the story to because I have broken this, shake, shake, shake until the relationship breaks and now I have to work every day to build.  Every day think of something kind, do something kind.  I broke it I must fix it.

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