I’m walking down the street in a ginormous grey city. There are maybe one or two people on the opposite sidewalk, otherwise the street is empty, almost eerie.
I’m heading for a shop. I don’t remember what I wanted to buy. Maybe it was milk? I’m not sure. I stop. This is the shop I came for.
The door in front of me is a metal frame painted in a light grey color almost as if trying to cheer me up before inevitable disaster with a glass pane in the middle embedded into the metal frame. I open it. It opens into the building, luring me inside. I take one step.
I look up. There is a woman behind a register at the end of the shop who seems too old to have such posture yet too young to have so many wrinkles and too clean to have those pimples on her face and hands. Her nose is disgustingly elongated. She wears an old crimpled hat in the shape of a cone. She moves her left hand index finger carelessly and easily towards me as if she’s done this a thousand times already, all the while staring at me with muddy eyes that have seen their share of destruction.
My heart beats. Faster. Faster. My eyes enlarge, almost popping themselves out of their sockets. My whole body is stuck, glued in place. Fear gripping at every inch of my legs, my chest, my hands. My heart drops. I snap. My legs are carrying me faster than a car could ever start. My eyes are only looking in front of me, not daring to look back for a single moment.