(no subject)
Sitting alone in the one bedroom, you wonder about the people around and where you stand in thier minds. It's troubling to you that you're the Jeffrey Dahmer; living in your own filth among soiled magazine centerfolds and empty bottles. The occasional quick smile from the woman who lives down the hallway, who's attention and actions accellerate to getting the door unlocked and in to safety. She doesn't like the smells that surround you; she's wary of your wardrobe, the entirety of which was purchased one day at Walmart.