Fugative

I stand at the bottom of the hill and look up. The day is beautiful, sunny and 80 degrees. I watch as quietly, gradually, almost unnoticed as the sunny day turns into night.

I watch as dark clouds slowly cover the sky, the distinct smell of rain permeates the dusty air. Fog begins to boil over Twin Peaks and a sharp cold wind begins to whip the palm trees.

What was once a warm, sunny day becomes doomsday almost without notice, it happens so fast.

Bad Day

I feel like utter poo