journal_day21.txt

Three weeks.

Temp 35. Air quality MODERATE and holding.

One granola bar. I ate it while I wrote this.

Now there's nothing.

I've been staring at the door for hours. The temperature is survivable now. Cold but survivable. The air quality is better. Not good but better.

But I don't have a coat. I don't have boots. I don't have gloves.

I have shorts. A t-shirt. Sneakers.

There's some bedding in the bedroom. Blankets. Maybe I could wrap them around myself. Maybe that would be enough.

I'm so tired. And hungry. And angry.

Angry at the boss for selling fake safety. Angry at the customers who bought it. Angry at myself for working here. For believing the newsletter. For coming here instead of dying with everyone else.

For surviving this long just to freeze to death anyway.

journal_day25.txt