Work Text:
Particularly, I'm not fond of this daze.
Two score and twelve years ago, I decided upon myself that I would leave the establishment of the Agency. I've never regretted that decision, I don't think it's a regrettable decision regardless. I mean, who would willingly want to go back all those years just to re-do a couple things to save the misery now? Surely not someone with the designated title of mine—-but.
That doesn't mean I don't feel right about the future.
I'm sure I'm supposed to feel right about it, what isn't there to feel right about? With the reintroduction of structure, things like simple pleasantries have began arising. People walk by and tell me good afternoon, they hold the door for me, they present me my morning purchase like I'm a fellow resident and not as if we're all going to die some way, some place. What isn't there to feel right about?
I was retired approximately seven months ago. I was presented a job as an at-home online educator, they're still in the process of building school grounds, so work from home opportunities are big. It aligned with my health-care, we aren't at a point of affording a working car yet, so I wont have to move around much. Even if I want to.
About that car. We do technically have one, it's a broken down old thing that Sanford haggled off of the junkyard, primarily a thanks to my connections. He's been working day in and out to buy some replacement parts on it, I don't know the exact names, but if he gets it working and back to order, all we'll need is an inspection—which I'm sure I can get—and we'll have some mode of transportation. Then maybe Deimos could take on a job, and Hank wouldn't need to walk out in the streets.
As of right now, I'd consider myself well off. We have an apartment, the four of us, and we have jobs, and things are all in all bareable. Can't wait until I get to drive again.
