Hill always came to places like this when he couldn’t sleep. He needed the dreams but without sleep, there were only visions.
In his visions, he’s alone usually by choice. People made too much noise. When he couldn’t sleep, it was because his own brain made too much noise and because he couldn’t let go of the world’s noise.
This one was better lit than most. It was quiet, but a little cold. He heard his footsteps on crumbling concrete. It was like a science fiction dystopia.
At the end of the tunnel, could he rest in a better world?









