The Dreadful Hours

[mojavefive]

It's four AM and you can't sleep. Your mind is racing along, a million miles per hour. Every bone in your body aches. You take a drive around town to calm your nerves. The moon hangs massive in the starless sky, pale and bloated, a perfect smudge of paint against the pitch-black mantle. You drive through a ghost town of amber streetlights and

Comments

[zak3056]

I am Jack's sense of hopelessness.

[harvey]

Damn, man - it sounds like you maybe need a roadtrip, sir.