Right now on this rainy sticky day there is one long black area stretching out in front of me. That is where my feet are taking me. I feel all to vividly the sound of my voice yelling "STOP" but yet I am moving on. No it is not me that is moving but that damned blackness is moving towards me. I cry. A little at first. I beg fate not to. Yet I am alone and no one is here to hear me. No one would care anyway except for that fat old immoral colored lady who lives in the slums some place in New England. I'll call her. Yes, I'll call her and she'll comfort me with her soft, fat busted voice. And I called her and she wasn't at home at all. I cry more- in vain- in vain- so what- a waste of time while he isn't even thinking of me.