It was raining. The fact that it was dawn too was not helping. Toby just looked at his watch, growled something silently, then rolled over. Now, facing the wall, all curled up like a fetus, he was lying still, with the eyes closed, listening. For 5 more minutes he cancelled out the world in his mind. There was nothing else there but rain. Finally, he opened up his pod. He stood up. The desire to stretch out was suddenly overcome by the cold that was outside. It was a hard thing living outside on the streets. His sleeping pod kept him safe from cold or rain, but only while he was inside of it. Once stepped out, it was a different story. Toby popped open a canned shower, spread whatever was left inside of that recipient on his body and quickly dressed back up. The empty can have rolled in a corner, forgotten in an instant. Toby then proceeded to wrap up his pod in a neat package, which fitted easily on his

back. It looked like a turtle’s shell. Because of this, many people called Toby ‘turtle Toby’ or more simply, the turtle. But Toby did not mind this at all. That pod was his most prized possession. And his only one as well. Inside of it was the only place where he felt safe. All he needed was to find small place that is out of sight. Somewhere, like behind a large container or under an overpass. He would set up his pod, snuck in, and everything was all right. Like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Except, there was never a butterfly emerging from this cocoon. It was always just the caterpillar. And like so many mornings before, the turtle put on his shell and started walking the long, narrow corridor that led towards a bleak day. Because such was the life in the place called The righteous fart.