Five.

The snow has been coming down quickly and smoothly. My walks have gotten thicker and thicker. It reminds me of my old home every time. Whenever it would snow, which was unusual, we would all load up the car with our laundry baskets and storage bin lids and head up to the "mountain". It was this seemingly large hill, compared to all the other hills, that we would sled down whenever we had the chance. I can't stop thinking about it lately. My brother was always so brutal going down the hill, he'd aim for me and swerve at me. Yet if he ever actually hit me, he'd carry the rest of the way apologizing and promising never to do it again. It made me think he never actually intended to hit me, it was just an act.
It was that memory that made me decide to venture past my usual walking route and head up towards the hills of my new run-down town. I ripped off a piece of my box that holds all of my possessions and made sure it could hold me. I finally saw a decent looking hill and decided to give it a try. Now, I don't know why I thought this would end well, reminiscing never has for me. But I did it. I slid down that hill, picking up speed every inch I went, until I got a little carried away. I started leaning from left, to right, to left, to right. Next thing I know, I'm heading towards a tree. Now in my head, that tree was just Tommy and we were just going to hit each other, and he would feel terrible and pick me up and take me down the hill. He would kiss my knee that was now bleeding and wrap it in a bandage when we got home. He would get a sling for my now broken arm and take me to the hospital for my concussion. But those thoughts ended quickly when I woke up next to the tree, my little make-shift sled scrapped on the side, my head throbbing, and my limbs weak. I think I laid there for fifteen minutes before I realized how serious it was. I inched my body towards the bottom of the hill that I never reached. I scooted up to stand and fell down. I tried two more times until I finally managed to gain my balance. I lifted my arm to my chest despite the throbbing pain. I never looked down at my knee as I hobbled back to my nook of a home. I don't even know where the hospital is, so I just decided to wait until the next day. Maybe I'll work up the guts and tolerance to hobble over to Johnny's and get some ice. Who knows?

Four.

So today I went on my walk, like I always do. I didn't see the old man this time, which surprised me since I feel like he waits for me these days. So I walked, and walked. It felt like it was normal until I reached what's usually Ray's liquor store. A pack of kids and all of their parents were running around, playing and laughing, looking like some sort of frantic, rushed block party. I noticed some of the kids had masks on but didn't give myself time to find out why. I jogged across the street and ducked out towards the orphanage. I was back to my walking pace when I saw a young guy heading towards the orphanage's front doors. He looked frantic, worried. I could see the anger and frustration in his eyes, it made me want to hit someone. He seemed like a tough guy from the outside but I could tell there was more worry than anger, which meant he was actually upset. He vanished into the building. I waited outside by the bushes at the end of the make-shift drive way. After about thirty minutes, maybe forty five-- I'm not sure-- I was about to call it a day and head home when he came back out. His expression had changed slightly and he seemed tired. His pace was slower, his determination gone for just a few brief moments, and then something happened in his head, because the last I saw of him was his feet kicking up dirt as he jogged back around the corner, oblivious to the mob of a block party that awaited him.