Mid-morning sunlight spilled in through the small, somewhat dusty pane of glass that looked out on the 'vista' of the (in)famous Chicago Stockyards. Years and layers of paint locked the small window closed, keeping the stench down to a mild undercurrent.
The sunlight als spilled across the bed that was one of the bedroom's few furnishing. Under the faded covers, a figure stirred to life, slowly sitting up and blinking blearily at the single bedroom in the small apartments. In his mid-twenties, the slender-yet-atlthetic young man ran his fingers through a sleep-touseled mass of sandy-blond hair.
"Mmmph." Jim grunted, thinking about the strange dreams of the night before. Rocking his head to ease a crick, it began to dawn on him that there was something 'not quite right' with the light spilling in the window...
"Goddamnit!" Jim shouted, having glanced over at the clock and discovered that it was now 10:58 in the morning - making him almost three hours late for his job at the local Gas station.
Mumbling curses under his breath, Jim dragged himself out of bed and towards the small batroom across the hall. Turning on the 'Hot' faucet of the shower all the way on, he padded, barefoot, to the kitchen, where he put on some coffee. Ten minutes later, carrying a mug of hot, thick black 'carbon remover', he padded back to the bathroom, finishing the morning's first cigarette.
The water had warmed up enough that it was luke-warm if left on full hot. Climbing in for a quick shower, Jim cursed his luck - and alarm clock - as he wondered where he'd find work now. His boss (ex-boss, now) had made it clear that the next time he was late, he shouldn't bother coming in at all.
"Dirty, rotten, no good..." Jim mumbled, towelling off. Slipping on a pair of khaki slacks and a grey sweatshirt, he pulled on a pair of frayed sneakers without bothering with socks, and trotted downstair to get the mail.
Aside from the (numerous) bills, there was only two peices of personal mail - but not from anyone he was expecting. At least, not according to the return adresses.
Shrugging, Jim openned the missive from...
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Wed Oct 6 00:03:46 1999