Start of story

The hazy sky envelopes the city with no discernable edge, thick with misty droplets.  The sun hides behind this monochromatic mix of city and sky; its only proof a cast of absent light over stone streets littered with cardboard boxes of fruits and fish, frogs and turtles.  The air carries the smell of stale sea water and rot across peddler's wide chapped cheeks as they hover over blankets and tarps, tin and turquoise lining each.

I close my eyes and yellow light falls in a circle over an old cream floor.  A desk sits in the middle, wooden and heavy.  The only other object is a large metal filing cabinet placed directly behind the desk and everything outside of yellow light fades to black.  I know I am here by the clacking of my shoes against the floor.  I open a drawer of the filing cabinet and retrieve a single manila file.  It is wet as I open it and it drips down my arms, pooling at my feet until I can see my reflection in its puddle.  I look up to haze enveloping a city with no discernable edge, the sun hiding behind a monochromatic mix of building and sky, it’s only proof a cast of dull light shed over stone streets.  Cardboard boxes of fruits and fish, frogs and turtles litter the roads and the air carries the smell of stale seawater and rot into my scarf.  Peddler’s wide cheeks grow chapped as the hover over blankets and tarps, tin and turquoise lining each.