9:50 p.m., October 31, 201X, a skeleton shuffles into Walgreens.
The store was quiet. You were leaning into a freezer, blearily grabbing at the nearest half gallon of chocolate milk.
You hadn't slept in twenty four hours, but the twenty four hours before that one you slept almost it's entirety (again,) missed a third day of work, and got fired. From Walgreens. This Walgreens.
You had tried to get out of bed. You really had. You'd set your phone alarm, your alarm clock, and a reminder to ping from your iPod calendar. You'd laid out your clothes the night before.
You took a shower, early, to help you get to sleep. But when you opened your eyes... it was... one of Those Days. You couldn't even get up to eat.
But at least that worked out; you hadn't been hungry.
To be honest, it was pretty awkward showing up at your ex job ten minutes before store closing hours – 9 minutes, now,
but you were sad and tired and too busy thinking to sleep; all you wanted was to drown your troubles in sugar and calcium, because wouldn't that help everything? There were
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