Allomia

         Crunch. Leaves crackle underfoot as I tramp them into the concrete. Step by step, the clattering of my footsteps grows as the leaves die down. I duck my head by a fraction as I descend into the Underground. Remarkable how clean it is here. None of those rotting organics. Still, I wish they'd brighten things up a bit. Splash some paint around. Swap out those flickering fluorescents for neon and colour. Anything but this interminable…greyness.        I stop by a ticket machine, ignoring the ticket-seller with grubby hands. I feed it coins scrounged from one of many jacket pockets. Most of them were empty, which was surprising.

I drew the curtains overlooking the street and locked the balcony door so the cat wouldn’t go outside. The poison rain had begun to fall once again. People below ran, a few screamed, a child cried. I shuddered, wondering when they’ll all learn, and turned away from the glass paned door to return to the kitchen. The house smelled like cranberry pistachio bread. The loaf was in the oven. Miki pawed at the balcony door. Her hair looking even greyer than it had the day before. Her flat face looked solemn. She didn’t like being confined to the house. I didn’t blame her, I used to like the fresh air too. On the television,