Traveling slow with broken boats heading for the sky and I'm an island.

[oddthatway]

It's almost sun down when I decide I need to be out of the apartment. I've spent too much of today caught up in my own thoughts, and it's starting to wear me down. So I grab my keys, my phone, and a knife I can hide in the sleeve of my jacket, and I head out the door, no clear direction in mind.

It's warm, but tolerably so. The kind of weather perfect for running, really. But though I could easily set out on a run, I don't really feel like doing so. I kind of want to see where my feet wind up taking me, maybe stopping for an iced coffee on the way.

Darrow is full of peace and tranquility, the likes of which I never knew back in Chicago. Even Amity's campground proved little more than a sham, in the end. A balm that couldn't fully cover the gaping wound. As much as I appreciate a life in which no one is trying to actively kill me, sometimes, this place still doesn't feel real to me.

I'm not looking where I'm going, and, of course, I'm turning the corner of a street. Naturally, I nearly collide with someone else.

"Shit!" I say, halting where I am and hoping I haven't done any damage. "I'm sorry."