SANDRA
I dashed past the early morning Monday crease, past the outstretched hands of the crippled beggar on the sidewalk, past the bespectacled man thrusting a flyer in my face, yelling about some promo, past the revolving doors of the gigantic work of art that is the city wall. I dashed towards the liquor cabinet with such purpose like a camny rushing towards a deer caught in its headlights, with such speed I am certain I almost leave my problems behind.…