He threw a few clothes into the suitcase.
Didn’t stop to fold them, just bundled them in, he had to get away. There were
just too many things pressing in on him, too many things shouting in his brain.
He went into the bathroom and grabbed his
toothbrush, paste and shaving gear. He dropped them on top of his clothes with
the mirror on top and closed the lid.
He was out of the door moments later letting
it slam shut behind him. Without a glance back he went up the path and onto the
pavement. He caught the bus at the end of the road and that was it. He had freedom.
Two months later, having been constantly
moving, he settled into another characterless bedroom and placed his case onto
the bed. He flicked open the fastenings and glanced down. He saw his face
reflected back up at him in the shaving mirror. His shoulders sagged.
It didn’t matter how far he ran he could
not escape the noise, the pressure, the fears. As his clothes were in the case
so the doubts and shadows were in his head.
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