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The days were short, cloudy, and freezing as they usually are in February. The sun rises and sets during working hours, so the only time to see it is during lunch break. You can forget about feeling the warmth of sunshine on your skin, though. The Nordic winter sun is pitifully weak, while the wind is brutal. Probably not a relevant detail today, though, because the grey shroud covers the sky again.
Last Sunday, I went shopping, but my favorite tea store was closed. Of course it was. Apparently, I need to try my miserable luck during the weekdays. Porridge was aslo about to run out. I had enough for just one more morning. The mere thought of cramming myself into a crowded sardine can on rubber wheels to make my way to the nearest supermarket filled my heart with disgust and dread. Once in the bus, regret will undoubtedly join the party.
The suffocating atmosphere wasn’t the only reason, though. As all remaining shreds of decency and withered human souls are sacrificed on the altar of capitalism, my hope for the future dwindles like a candle slowly running out of its pale fuel. I never really enjoyed supermarkets or the constant bombardment by intrusive advertisements in all forms: audio, visual, and even olfactory. Even though I don't endorse or condone acts of violence, living in the city has made me somehow understand where some crazy people are coming from.
I place my hat on the hat-rack and unholster the tea bags and porridge sachets in their usual place - you know - next to my gun and badge.
I crack open the blinds a smidge and squint into the overcast street below, where a cop walks towards a homeless man and offers him food.
I sip on my green tea-oolong fusion mix, as I watch the kind scene unfold. I shake my head. "These streets aren't what they used to be."
LOL. I can see you’re having a lot of fun reading these short stories.