Working Towards a Dream
For what felt like the millionth time I unlocked the door to my third floor cold-water walk-up. My jacket went on the hook on the back of the door. I'd stopped at the Asian market down the block for a handful of burger and a pint of half 'n half. They went on the counter while I cooked up a batch of chicken-rice on my one electric burner. In the mean time I twisted half-dry the clothes in my five gallon pail, refilled it with cold water and set it to soaking once again. Soon the rice was...