One hair longer, one shorter. Click clack, I try to make my way through the dense fog. The legs are wobbly but I have a crutch.
Squinting at the sky. I can’t see the sun, only clouds. Still, the brightness hurts my eyes. The only steady bit is the ground but my feet give up. I hold onto the crutch, it is firmly attached to my left arm.
Click clack, I continue my way forward through dampness, lit up by a hidden sun. Where’s the wind to blow it away? Why is the sun hiding? Who took the soles from my feet and exchanged them with pudding?
I reach a red neon sign, my crutch moves towards it.
“Do you want to have a beer?”
– I nod.