It’s dark. It’s cold. Damp.
In the middle of nowhere I find myself alone trying to get the small flashlight attached to my keys to work.
My dad would always tell me how it’s advantageous to always be prepared for just about anything to happen.
I take after my mom. She’s the one that’s always finding herself in situations in which she’s ill prepared like the situation I’m currently facing.
My dad is no longer around. My mom is there somewhat. She’s in what I like to refer to as a walking coma. She’s alive and walks and sometimes talks but she’s barely functioning.
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