Through my window branches clash together in a violent wind. The drizzled mist of rain spatters the glass and sodden leaves roll across the grass. The day is greeted with a dark, tumultuous sky. An extension of night. I wrap the blanket tighter around me. Its healing embrace warming my body. A tight crocheted pattern lets my fevered body breathe.
Steam rises from the lip of my mug, maroon tea swirls, an aroma released into my aching lungs. My body curled into itself, huddled in for warmth against the tufted grey lounge. Only a lamp to light the pages of my journal; the house quite, still under a restless night's slumber. At my feet, the bundle of a cat. Her brown and grey fur pulsing to her breath, the shocks of orange dancing, her white feet kneading. And in her eyes reflected the dying embers of a fire, the smoke stained glass encasing white flames, black soot, ashes, and coals.
A restful reproach after a night spent in fog, a night balanced in the upheaval of loyalties. Shots rang out across the docks, buffeted against steel hulls, thumping in the dense air. The smoke of his cigarette trailing to the ground, the curse in his eyes. He saw me and he knew. It was the end to his kingdom, this rise of my career. My canvas coat wrapped tightly around my waist, my hands on my hips I stood triumphant over the conclusion to this story. My father, his daughter; destroyed in the name of justice.
This marked the beginning although it marked his end. The men in their woolly blues cheered, a single tear dropped, and then I walked away. It is time to forget the man he was and begin to build the woman I am to become.
My first headline:
Top Popped: Giuseppe the Bottleneck
Read More: Chicago's Vice
