Runaway. 1

I strolled down the old dirt road to the local bar. I arrived at the small bar and ordered a scotch. I sat on the worn out leather stool and put my head on the wood counter. I sighed. The bartender handed me my scotch and asked me if I was okay. I replied "Do you really care?" he gave me a harsh look and stomped to the other end of the bar. I drank from my glass and grimaced, the scotch was bitter and strong. I got up and went to the restroom. I pulled open the scratched wooden door and washed my hands in the sink. I thought to myself "where am I going to go next?" I have been running from my foster parents for 4 weeks. (That's a long story I will explain later.) I ran out of money 2 days ago. That meant I had to steal everything I needed to survive. I wasn't used to the homeless lifestyle quite yet so I hadn't succeeded yet at shoplifting. I planned to sneak out the bathroom window since I couldn't pay for the scotch. I climbed out of the window and landed with a thump in the dumpster. "Fantastic" I said. I clambered out of the retched dumpster and walked. That's all I can believe in, walking. My legs never fail me and I don't think they will, walking is the only thing I know how to do that won't change or leave.