The tension. The feeling is inside me. It is just beneath the surface. I try. I try not to show it. Remaining calm is best, someone said a long time ago. I don’t want to explode. I don’t want this to explode me, as if I were a bomb. The coldness of the streets stops me. That’s the only thing holding me in a place, in a situation that has turned abusive. Too abusive for my taste. Too abusive to shrug off and pretend it does not exist.





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