I had grown used to the sound of the rain. Hours of it had stopped my ears to any further notice. I wasn’t ready for the cold, for my clothes to grow heavy with the damp; I hadn’t thought of anything other than escape, and that had been hard enough. Didn’t even look for a coat. My thoughts wouldn’t stay together long enough, and sleep ever dogged my fevered brains. Any moment of retrospection or consideration brought with it the threat of oblivion. I had to act or sleep, and I knew what would happen if I was found sleeping.
Psst! Hey kid, wanna buy a book?
