In this underground city filled with a stifling boredom and permeated by the smell of preservatives, Anwina and I spent two days living a life that amounted to waiting to die, though merely eating and sleeping until ending up in a coffin has always been my greatest life goal, I now sadly realized that it would be terrible if life really just boiled down to that.
Anwina and I were sitting in a cave in Dark City—although the owner called it a living room, I still insisted that a place carved out underground without even basic beams and with a stone table as the only piece of furniture should be called a cave and not a living room. Across from us sat two skeletons that looked identical to me, aside from size and smoothness, but were in fact a married couple. In front of this odd group of two skeletons, a ghost, and a living person, there was a small pile of paper pieces with crooked and twisted symbols scrawled on them.
