AudgePodge

  A note to the reader: This was a part of my college project on creative writing fiction. This story contains themes of suicide, alcoholism, mental health, and dark elements. David Kenneth Abbasi, 34-years-old and 5-feet-eleven-inches, sits on the balcony overlooking the city. The wind is crisp with a puzzling undertone of ammonia. Neon flashes and flickers, casting a reddish-orange glow over the night sky. It’s cold, perhaps stale, but not uncomfortable. David has money, but you would never know it. He sits with his worn leather boots crossed and his saddlebag slung absentmindedly across the left shoulder. Both are scuffed with years of wear. He dons a flannel, most likely found in a free bin years ago, though he doesn’t remember this; he does not pay attention to the small details in life. David is a big picture guy. He can barely recall his seventh birthday — the one where his birthday clown inadvertently flirted with his aunt the entire afternoon — because it wasn’t a big pict...