I walk outside for fresh air in January. Yet anther hot flash insomnia fit. It’s oddly silent on Capitol Hill. The sounds of the city are dampened by the low hanging fog that’s engulfing the street lights. There’s not a soul around aside from this damn rabbit.

It’s inches away from my feet and throwing me side eye, as rabbits are inclined to do. My first instinct is to throw a Pokémon ball at it – what is this creature? It must be the only one that survived the summer. Vague memories flash in the back of my mind. That time when dozens of rabbits suddenly decided to set up shop on my block. Was it July? August? who knows? Those months are a blur of radiation, mountains and questionable coping methods. In retrospect I should have found it incredibly odd as I’ve never seen such a thing in all my years living in Seattle.

It was the summer of the rabbit.

Now it’s just this lone survivor. The OG hill rat that made it til winter. I wish I had a carrot in my pocket. Spare change for the survivor mentality. You and me, mr. bunny foo-foo. We’ve come a way. Not a long way, but far enough to know what survival smells like.

Street cred kid.