I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
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I walked meekly, acting like I was on my way to a job. I couldn't be sure just who would see me, so I needed an easy way to slip in and out of the warehouse, hence why I was wearing a decent shirt and clean pants. Enough to pass at a workplace, but also casual enough for a kind gentleman, or whatever someone passing wanted to label me as.
The warehouse was a frequent home for those who needed shelter, although the seekers are usually two to three people who just came from a certain gas station.
I had a second alibi, just in case someone caught me in the warehouse. Outside, I was a civilian making his way to work. Indoors, I was a kind man who handed out sandwiches to the poor. To help my case, I had as many sandwiches in my briefcase as I could fit after hiding the "evidence", and two in my pocket in case I actually had to give the greedy bastards that slept there something.
Taking a deep breath, I stood in front of my new challenger.
Looking back, I would have had better luck in the park.
