When I first moved to the city, I felt claustrophobic every minute of every day. My bedroom was just big enough to hold a double bed and a tiny desk. I had never been one to hold onto material objects and it was serving me well.
Until now, I hadn’t been happy about the move. The early morning fog kept the streets empty and gave me room to move freely. I was hoping the streets would stay empty or my plan would be ruined. This was the only way to get people out of their apartments and talking with neighbors.
More Friday Fictioneers stories can be found here.