Cleo Valentine (Apt. 2B)

The events of yesterday were so strange, but then again, all of the events surrounding Pointe Place tend to be. I remember the green bolt of light surging towards me and then I woke up in my bed with a weird feeling that something in me had changed. I spent the day cleaning up the remnants of my wall of photos, most of which I had left on the floor, and revisited the ones that I had saved, saying goodbye to the chapter of my life when hiding behind a camera was how I presented myself. Surprisingly, instead of feeling devastated and melancholy, I felt a glow start to spread through my body as the day progressed. After a while I realized that I hadn’t eaten all day and decided to embark on a walk in the town. Immediately, as I stepped out of the front doors of Pointe Place I heard music drifting to my ears from Yelsnag Park. A fair was bustling with life and instead of turning away and learning about it from someone else later, I decided to experience it for myse...

After I left the oddly timed but inspirational speech from Ryan Lochte at the library, I walked home feeling extremely conflicted and confused about where to go from here. Many people from Pointe Place also walked in close proximity, but I barely noticed as my feet carried me along the all too familiar route. I had found comfort in interacting with people through small snapshots. There wasn’t too much pressure to hold a conversation for long periods of time and if I ever felt lonely, I could always return to my wall and revisit fond interactions. That was all gone now. The walk home, similar to my thoughts, was gloomy, dark, windy, and nippy. As, I finally settled down in my apartment, I stared pensively at the floor before it became shrouded in a brilliant green light so bright that at first I thought my floor was glowing and radiating the light itself. As I looked up and out of my window, the sky was so beautiful it made a person feel hopeful, wishful. O...

After spending hours digging around in the soggy remnants of what was once an art exhibit worthy, wall-wide collection of interactions, I had finally managed to save a few photos and stories and placed them in a box in the top of my closet. Even though everything I had been working on for the past year was completely destroyed, I couldn’t help but try to save it. It was my challenge and goal to meet someone everyday and I pushed myself to do it so that I could slowly escape the confines of the box I had put myself in. That was all gone now, and with it, my sense of self. Somehow, through all of these complete strangers, I found a piece of myself in each of them. I stared blankly at the emptiness of the demolished wall before realizing George was standing in my doorway, not registering that I had left it open when I entered. “Hey Cleo, I’m rounding up people still in the building to go to the library. There’s supposed to be some kind of event there, might be a ...

Though he tried to reassure me, Master Gooway was wrong. Yes, we did eventually get out of the elevator, but no one came to help us. After hours of sitting, conversing here and there, and becoming more and more restless by the minute, t he cold sneakily slithered under the crack of the elevator doors, our warm breaths quickly turning to condensation, finally pushing us to our breaking points. In an attempt to force open the doors, Master Gooway placed his hands between them, getting them mostly open when they suddenly snapped shut on his hands, doing enough damage to severely cut his hands, but not break the bones in them. Many failed attempts later and the sight of the city blinded us as our eyes readjusted to the light of the snow-capped disaster. My eyes glazed over over-turned cars, crumbling buildings, scattered branches, and wounded community members. Master Gooway and I quickly realized we were lucky to have been stuck in that elevator, or we may h...