the abandoned clock tower proved to be the perfect squat, sheltering us from the outside world. she and i took solace in our solitude, hidden away hundreds of feet above the bustling city below. no one knew we were here, and we preferred it that way. we spent our numbered days chasing the flickering flame of addiction, wasting away behind the broken clock. the irony of time stopped was not wasted on us. the giant motionless arms of what was once a great feat of engineering cast eerie shadows throughout our abode. in the sticky hours of midday summer, we would huddle in their shade. life passed slower up here, death beckoning, always one boof away.
By: Jester Pepperbottom