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1000 CDF (short story)

Just be quiet just be quiet. Their eyes are all so big, staring at me, I know they are staring why do they look at me, are they looking? How do I know if they are looking if I don’t look back. What if they are looking. Let me keep my head to the ground and keep walking forward and keep walking forward. 
Let me not lose my thread, let me just keep walking forward. The hostility of the world around me is a choice that is partially of my own making. I don’t have all the control but I have some of the control. Don’t make eye contact. Keep going, Don’t stare at my feet, stare ahead, but vacant. These streets are only as hostile as I allow them to be. Keep walking keep walking keep walking.
The street is in ruins, how can it be allowed to be so terrible? Tarmac dating back decades, holes that were old when I was born with no attempt to fill them. And a manic street pulsating and throbbing with motorcycles, cars and so many people moving in every direction imaginable. Don’t stop moving. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t walk too fast. Don’t avoid eye contact. Keep just going forward. Keep just going forward. I’m only going a little bit farther.
Suddenly someone is holding my hand tight. What the fuck. I try to slip my hand quickly away but it is stuck. I try to keep moving forward, shedding this weight on my arm before I even acknowledge it, like having a twig stuck on a shoe and just brush it off. The grip is slippery, even a little wet, but I can’t get my hand out of it.
With my other hand I reach into my back pocket and I take out a small bank note. Still without looking I pass the money to the gripping force behind me. The vice loosens and the money slips out of my hand and now I am free again. I don’t look back. I keep walking forward. 

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