Sleeping rough for another night. He was in the alleyway. A way off, near the building. I saw him. I ran my ass off. Didn't stop until lactic acid near-choked me with its taste. At this point, I realised I had left my rucksack full of all my possessions - wallet, keys, most of my research notes. I was sleeping around a large bin, to shelter me on as many sides as possible, so there's a chance my things are still there. In the meantime, I have my phone, which I'm writing this on, and which won't last long without the mini-USB/charger; it's an HTC Desire HD, a phone with a pretty poor active battery life.
If I can't get my charger back, I might be going silent for a bit.
If I can't get my wallet back, I won't be eating.
If I can't get my keys back, then someone else has my house keys, which potentially puts my family in danger.
If I can't get my research notes back, then I'll probably be torn apart by Daddy.
Ahhh, the fucked up priorities of a Runner, eh?
I guess I'm one of you now.
It's been 18 days. It still aches, you know.