It's one of those days that when you wake up you know your going to forget.
There's not a chance for the light to even escape and he's standing there in the fucking dark with an old thermos that was bought from the thrift store. Fall had started which made St. Paul look more dirty then it already was. When he reaches close to two stories in the air he sees the Mississippi which looks like it is filled with shit. Smoke escapes the mouths of buildings covering everything in a black film.

He doesn't know why but the distant landscape of purple with the dark gray horizon reminds him of being on the reservation in the tall weeds in the back of his house that he would use to miss the bus for school. He'd lay there while the earth ate him whole. He could hear the soft sound of the wind that spread throughout the dead wild flowers. Like an ocean of nothing. Nothing going anywhere and everything that would die just where it began. He was already at the top about to crawl into the warm box to begin his day.