The other side of life's lottery
The sun starts to seep through the windows of my room. I slowly inch open my eyes and, as I start to regain my senses, I realise that I'm not waking up in the comfort of my London flat. There is no luxurious duvet keeping me warm. No soft carpet to cushion my feet when I stand. Instead, I awake and see that I'm encapsulated by a very small mosquito net, scattered with holes, which negates the point of using the net in the first place, but the thought of some sort of protection, despite its flaws, still provides me with a sense of security. I fumble my way out of the bed and search for my flip flops to provide some respite from stepping onto the cold, concrete floor. I look out at the room and see the boxes which clutter my room, behind which I am certain I have some sort of lizard room mate, based on the sounds I remember hearing throughout the night. I scutter over to the corner of the room and grab my wash bag and some clothes from the temporary table I have made using one of...