That morning as I walk to work, i feel the praying eyes of the unfortunate ones, the ones that lie in a stupor between life and death, the ones that want me dead, the ones who whish they were me. there isn't anything special about me. except my hair, I've always hated my hair, it draws attention, I hate attention. my hair is a fiery red, like the sun, or so I'm told. there isn't a sun anymore. there isn't anything. after what happened the world became a barren wasteland, we built it up again and adapted to our new conditions, of course we did, that's what humans do. but it's fake. simulated. eyes penetrate the back of my head. it's always been an instinct of mine to protect and help the ones I love, but the one I want to help the most, doesn't need it.
I round a corner and find that I'm already at the station, time flies when your lost in your past. there's someone watching me. I turn around and see Hunter scanning the crowd , I hurriedly turn around before he notices my gaze. sometimes I fantasize about what could've been if we hadn't broken up. got married? move in together? had children? I'll never know, none of that is possible now. not after what happened. what my family did to him. still pondering upon this I step onto the awaiting train.