I was just thinking about how I used to sometimes sneak out of that little house I lived in on Merry Street. Usually the urge would hit me at around two in the morning, and I’d creep around in the dark, avoiding creaky floorboards and pretending like I had a real process for gathering my shit together. My intent was to get to Anthony’s shop, break in, and relax in the back office. This is one of the few things I actually accomplished in those days, and I’d come to think of it as a required prequel to sleep. Six months ago was ridiculous, really.
I always spent more effort sneaking out of my empty house quietly than I did breaking into the store.
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