The clichés had mounted in the past months. There had been a dark and stormy night—two, actually—and a few grey and stormy days. Crime hadn't been paying, not what it used to, and with the growling in her stomach from fasting for several days, Susan was sure she could eat a horse.
Today, however, the sun was as radiant as Susan's blonde hair. Evicted, and on the street, Susan couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day. She strolled unmerrily down the street, humming meloncholy tunes to herself. She had walked this street every day for a year (it was the way to the nearest bus stop), but today she felt as if her feet were lead.
No one had cared, of course, when she had been kicked out of her hovel. She didn't even care that much, since she was drunk on whiskey. That would all change in a day or so.
In the meanwhile, trudging along the sidewalk, street, sometimes bumping into the walls of the buildings she passed, she felt that something had been forgotten. She wasn't sure what it was, or who had forgotten it. It was probably her ex-boyfriend, who, while not a very good lover and tended to punch her when he was angry, had at least left a goodly supply of cocaine when he had disappeared. She'd sold it all—nothing but alcohol had ever altered her state of mind.
Suddenly, she was on the ground, her head spinning. The sky wasn't blue, anymore. Now it was mauve, and then burgundy. Strangely, it turned yellow and then green before everything went black.
