But this is when the rains of misfortune got busy. Acidic and bitter; they burned a hole through my skin and seeped into my soul, where the heat of jealousy exploded into a small little fire which I was forced to vomit along with half-digested salmon.
Fire in my belly; lava on my tongue. I looked up at the dragons, triumphant. They let out a series of mini-fires, fireworks in the sky that provoked random people on the streets to erupt in cheers.
I felt sick, and a little redundant. Inside, my wife was screaming in unbridled passion; outside, the dragons were outdoing me in a brutal show of one-upmanship. I wiped my lips and sat down; despondent and dejected, doleful and down.
D. It used to be my favourite letter; my totem. The letter that could be an 'O', but it inhibited its rebel streak, straightened itself out to become a 'D'. That's what I was. A 'D'.
'D' for dragons.Up there, they were still entertaining the crowds. Down here, I sat cradling my dying dreams. Downcast and drenched.