He stood in the middle of road, staring out into the foggy mist that surrounded him. Squinting, he looked around, trying to distinguish shapes and objects in the gray clouds. Nothing. The only things he could see clearly were his own two hands, wrapped in latex gloves, and the florescent vest which he wore on his chest. He could feel the smoke moving in, inching it's way under his goggles and mask and poisoning him.
I think the only part of our own life we can control is our own decisions and what we believe in. You can’t really control what happens to you and what doesn’t.
