My good friends know this, but I don’t do well alone. Like, really don’t do well alone. I start getting antsy after a couple hours without human contact. Ironically, I have lived alone since 2006. This somehow makes sense, really.
Monday night, in the worst howly-stormy bits of Hurricane-or-Tropical-Storm-or-Angry-Ave
I gave myself rules: no penciling, and no correcting errors apart from crossing them out. The story is obviously edited, but I tried to be merciless and not edit out embarrassing/troubling bits.
Here’s Part One, from Friday through Sunday, when the MTA shutdown began.
Mirrored from Antagonia.net.