209 | 051031

I joined my parents and brother on some sort of vacation, where we stayed on the first floor of a house-like inn. It was located near a deserted ghost town, and all of this was located in the middle of endless desert. So much wind was holding sand in the air that you could barely see a few meters away. All you saw outside of this inn was the color beige. Another family was sharing this inn with us. They had two young daughters, both with a peculiarly unnerving slit shape to their eyes. The older one was a redhead with whom I constantly wished to talk but never succeeded. This inn was annoying and boring, with stark tiles in the kitchen/bathroom reminiscent of a restaurant. After a few days of staying here, I was out in the eternal sand storm with my dad. A rattlesnake lurched at him from the sand, but he instantly grabbed its back behind the head. My dad seemed unhappy though, and he revealed that the snake actually did manage to puncture his hand with one fang, so he was indeed poisoned. I immediately had to seek an antidote. This required me to run away from the inn, into the solid beige storm, hoping I would eventually come upon the deserted remnant of a town. I eventually did, and I somehow obtained a massive syringe larger than a baseball bat: the antidote. I decided to take two in case I also get attacked by a rattlesnake on my way back to the inn. Apparently everything worked out fine, because later I was back home, ready to relax after this stressful vacation. Karen called my cellphone, and she began to cry. I almost already knew what happened while I was gone. I nervously asked her who she slept with, and she said it was one of her ex boyfriends. I was quick to be seared to insanity by the feeling of having been cheated on. Questioning her, I was failing to keep control of my yelling and crying. She said nothing for a long time, even after I repeated questions endlessly and frantically, and so I assumed that the connection was lost. I hung up and attempted to call back, further enraged that she might not have even heard what I had been saying for the past minute. Tears in my eyes prevented me from ever properly dialing that simple speed-dial number: 24. I sat on the floor of my bedroom, defeated.