this morning #695.

this morning, the heat beneath the tin roof was already uncomfortable at this early hour. imminent sweat. he stripped down to his skivvies & laid his body down on the cold concrete, directly below the ceiling fan. he was not yet desperate enough to let today be the day where he gave up & let himself be cooked alive inside of a minimally-converted garage. not yet. he needed to put his clothes back on & find a more hospitable location to wait out the hours until the sun went down. not here. of course, having a paying job would’ve been optimal. at present, he was currently “between things” though, so most of his energy went towards finding sober ways to fill his days.