He knew he should have brought an umbrella this morning. He merged with the foot traffic on the sidewalk and began the shuffle towards his station."Wh...t am I doing with my life?" he wondered. He had a good job in the Financial District, even if no one could figure out what he did when he told him. He had given up long ago trying to describe it and just said "Marketing" when asked. Most people thought it was advertising, but really he just read reports and processed numbers, pushing his findings. And now worn by me.No. No! I refused to accept it.I shook my head, willing this to be some sick dream. The motion set my long, braided swinging. This could not be real, I refused to let it be so. There was a pressure about me. In my head? No something deeper, etherial, almost spiritual, a force pushing against my very being. Not knowing how, I pressed back, as if denial alone could change reality. Something shifted. A blink of the eye, and everything was normal once more.The gun was on the. More

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