typeracer

I saw an automobile once when I was a kid, but now, they're everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry. The Parole Board got me into this halfway house called The Brewer, and a job bagging groceries at the food way. It's hard work and I try to keep up, but my hands hurt most of the time. I don't think the store manager likes me very much. Sometimes after work I go to the park and feed the birds, I keep thinking Jake might just show up and say hello, but he never does. I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends. I have trouble sleeping at night, I have bad dreams like I'm falling. I wake up scared. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember where I am. Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the food way so they send me home. I could shoot the manager while I was at it, sort of like a bonus. I guess I'm too old for that sort of nonsense anymore. I don't like it here, I'm tired of being afraid all the time. I've decided not to stay. I doubt they'll kick up any fuss, not for an old crook like me.