South

The southern part of the city has a chic family-oriented sort of charm to it. Here, small locally owned shops run rampant, neighbors often know each other by name, and the monthly socials are an event not to be missed. In the South, children can often be seen safely playing in the park or on sidewalks and in the weekends, families often take to the beach to enjoy the warm waters surrounding the city.

What You'll Find Here

Ascension Center of Equitation
Hyde Park
Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium
The Outskirts
The University of Sacrosanct

Sylvester Veres

Ain't life just awful strange


Posted on December 22, 2021 by Gia Jones
South

a new world hangs outside the window
beautiful and strange
it must be I've fallen awake
I must be



It was all she could do to summon herself out of bed. Her cracked, dry lips peeled apart from one another as she lunged one hand toward a half-full glass of water on her bedside table. The hangover had set in, even if she thought she'd done a good job limiting herself to just a handful of drinks the night before. That's what I get for trying sobriety, the dark hunter begrudgingly thought to herself. She'd gone a full week without touching the sauce, only to succumb to booze to celebrate a successful night of work. Her stomach churned as she tried to push feelings of guilt, disappointment and general imps of 'fuck this' from her brain.

Sebastian the fluffy orange cat meowed in disdain as she pulled the duvet cover out of his grasp. She was late to drop his breakfast too, the cow.

With one palm against her pounding forehead, she limped her way to the bathroom, purposely avoiding eye contact with the bathroom mirror as she popped some Advil in her mouth and swallowed.

Sebastian cooed again.

"Alright, alright." She said in protest, slumped over on the toilet.

She remembered the East side bar and the handsome but grumpy warlock she'd met. She remembered the feelings of paranoia and anxiety setting in. And she recalled paying her bill and catching the train back to Dupont, smoking a joint and rolling into bed. So it wasn't that bad. Apparently hangovers are worse when your tolerance for whiskey is waning.

Determined not to spend her day tolling around doing nothing, Buffy fed the cat, hopped in the shower and put on clean clothes. There was time to catch a late morning yoga session if she hurried, but she was not about to hurry. Instead, she zipped up a hoodie and trudged out the door, checking her pocket for cash as she walked briskly down the street toward the main cluster of restaurants and shops near the end of her quaint suburban street. It must be Saturday, or was it Sunday?, she thought, as she squinted in the sun at the throngs of jolly and active people. A farmer's market was bustling in the middle of the green space.

Buffy worked her way around it, her gaze searching desperately for - wait, there it is - her favorite food truck. Her mouth began to salivate just at the thought of a greasy, salty breakfast burrito. And suddenly, there was a new pep in her step.

GIA BUFFY JONES

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