Aiden Jenkins. Stupidity

It is the stench that begins to sting me first the second I exit the building into the wilderness of fog and fire. The acidic air is intoxicating in what seems to be the purest form a toxic can be. The acid stings through the drenched towel I use to cover all parts of my head and face, except for a thin slit where I am able to see through. It feels claustrophobic—imprisoned in this binding cloth—but I know I need all the protective layer I can get to block out the blinding fog.

The burns on my skin come next, making my eyes water with the intense pain. The memory of when I accidentally poured bleach on my skin while laundering my clothes comes forth for a moment before I push it out of my mind—I have to focus!