My life had recently been plagued by a persistent bought of rotten luck.
I'd been terminated from my last job, the weeks spent unemployed were slipping into months despite the stacks of applications I'd filled out, and every credit card I possessed had been maxed out to its limit. Bitterness and self-loathing had poisoned every fiber of my being and left me with an inescapable melancholy that I was starting to believe was incurable. My latest humiliation had been to dig through my wallet for spare change as a cashier fixed me with a plastered-on smile and an impatient line grew behind me, only to find that I still didn't have enough money to purchase a meager amount of groceries.
I'd headed to Woodharrow Park afterwards—a local secluded, sleepy stretch of land—to clear my head. The park was empty when I arrived, leaving me free to wander the paths alone and aimlessly. Hunger gnawed away at me like a familiar enemy I could never quite shake. In a final indignity, the previously-sunny sky suddenly began to pour rain—I, of course, was not carrying an umbrella. (Read more...)