charmed, I'm sure

So I sat there, must’ve looked stoned for all the slack-jawed energy I put into my facial expression. I watched the jackass fool run off, his laughter dopplering away from me, like a sick commentary on my current existence.

I like to camp. Seriously. It suits me. Call me a hobo, a bum, homeless, whatever. No one is my boss, and I answer to no one else. Freedom. F-R-E-E. That’s me.

The charm thing sat on my chest. It started to get warm. It started to burn.

“fuck fuck Fuck FUCK FUCK !” I slapped at it, standing, and stumbling int he process. It burned hot, like an ember from a cook fire that had gotten stuck in my chest hair back in ‘08.

I must’ve stumbled in the right direction, because it cooled off. For an all too brief moment. Then it began to heat up.

Now, I may be poor, but I ain’t stupid. It only took 3 more hot screaming sessions to figure out that if I moved in a certain direction, the damn thing would cool off. Hell, I’m not gonna force it. Off I went, in the only direction I could.

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