Children outside rush toward the river's bank, each with a folding pram cradled in their arms. I saw the sun overhead.
I woke up again, feeling the cold pre-dawn air. I don't see the sun come up or go down anymore. The waking days begin in darkness and end in the same manner, only slightly more callous. A cheap and amicable affirmation of depression waits in a pint glass named "Temporary Resignation". It doesn't yield to the smirk on my face.
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