HIGH- FUNCTIONING DEXTER [TRIGGER WARNING! This post mentions suicide.]
Photo by Ahmed on Unsplash What’s that dear reader? Wait another story? Okay, only this one, then I must go; I must go and be alone for I have a newfound strength in solitude. You enter the ominous aristocratic setup; a grand building greets you at the entrance and a forbidding doorbell glares at you as if daring you to press it. You are then greeted by a shrewd fellow; the building’s secretary. Sometimes it’s a simple wave, other times it’s the usual smile that strangers familiarize themselves with as they share the spite of catching the early worm in the wee hours of the morning. The paintings are peeling, and the pillars seem to rise and fall like a horse on a ghoulish carousel. You walk through the vestibule and a young fellow in a fitted and padded blazer walks past you with one hand in his pocket, looking down ardently trying to act as though they had never encountered you in their lifetime. This person is hiding something. Then another walks past, this time his pair o...