Behind enemy lines

[Lumenari]

Day 3.

My journal of survival.

I was approached today by someone wanting a cigarette and they weren't wearing a mask.

I was so upset that I had to spend the rest of the day knocking down a statue of St. Patrick because the guy who accosted me had red hair and was a Ginger and probably Irish.

I am so upset right now that I need to demand that the government make me a nice cup of cocoa with some peppermint schnapps in it.

This is life on the edge.

It's raw, gutsy, and unhinged.

Gingers have no soul and are SUPER white so you should have started an autonomous zone right there.

I know... you have a work schedule to adhere to.

But it would have helped you to blend in for the rest of your time behind the lines.

Any leads on my... erm... your pumps yet?