Plague Journal #2

Sunset tore a brushfire through the dirty city chrome. Heralding the gloam. In the twilight, sippin Rye from my wrought iron perch, spotted a tail-clipped rabbit. Little rhombus, still as a broken thermometer. Frozen in terror? The longer I stared the more sinister the aspect. Who's terrified? 

Today nothing stirs. Rainy throughout, reminding me of the three bouts of odd hour diarrhea a few nights back in which I woke my wife to news of probable infection. Isolated myself on the couch with tummy bubbling seltzer and read until things cooled. Symptoms have subsided for now.

Mail arrived early today. The census, the hospital, my last check. Pay came along with a typed note informing me that the tourism-oriented company I work for is too dry in the till to pay laid off employees in full. Therefore I received roughly 76% of what was owed. Furious group texts between co-workers ate up the rest of the day. 

Medicine of Four Roses (1.75 L) slackens the solipsistic noose. Screaming Merry Christmas. They ain't gon' split up the family. They ain't worth a dead hooker's last queef. Nothin' but the devil's business. And how!