Ratha pulled up into the driveway listening to Party Next Door. Nobody was home, and it was pitch black. Still, as dark as it was, the cast shadows of the baren trees were in plain sight. Their branches danced around in front of the soft moonlight, rehearsing familiar movements choreographed by the light breeze. Ratha backed his 1999 Toyota Camry (AKA The Camborghini) in as the garage opened up. "A few days away from this monotony," he thought to himself. He was met by a brisk cold front upon exiting The Camborghini. Before carrying his luggage into the house, Ratha walked outside and fixated his vision on the moon. The moon was hiding behind slightly pellucid clouds, the clouds themselves seemed to be pacing themselves throughout the night sky. As Ratha stared deeply into the moon noticing darkened crevices made out to be a face similar to that of a singular crying emoji, he broke his silence and whispered to himself, “These hoes crazy. Man, these hoes crazy.” After such an intimate moment with the moon, Ratha unloaded his car and retreated to his bedroom to text these same hoes he spoke about, questioning who really was crazy; himself or these hoes. A dilemma without much understanding causing an increased awareness for change, which is ironically apart of the hero’s inner journey cycle as was taught to him in the 9^th grade. Save yourself, Ratha. Save yourself.

Overall rating: 4.00/5 stars