2. White-Out - Charlie Mars
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He stands in front of the mirror, the first revision of his costume a bit awkward in places but still an accomplishment, still something to be proud of. Easy to look at and see nothing but the surface, to not bother thinking about what's underneath. It reminds him of the city, in a way, and he scowls.
God, his city... born and raised here, sure, greatest city on earth. Biggest cesspool, too. One thing can be a lot of things, and which pops to mind first usually depends on whether he's picked up the newspaper yet that day.
What does it say, he wonders; what does it say, when your home, a place you love enough at least to want to fix it, make it better... makes you do this? Makes you hide yourself away in a cabinet, become something else, because the you that's really you - the bit inside that hurts and bleeds as well as anyone else - can't stand going out into its daylight anymore? What does it say when you can't go out as yourself because your self is huddled in a corner, horrified and angry and cursing, all fury and trembling disbelief and fever-chills?
Daniel thinks about it, and thinks, and thinks. And wanders out into the night.
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