His target changed course at the half-way mark and headed south. Eventually Jimmy ended up driving along a lonely stretch of road at twice the posted speed limit. I should have intercepted them by now.
He was surrounded by fog, not the white version he remembered when he grew up stretching out over the lake. This was thicker and more pervasive and had a colour reminiscent of rust.
As a child there were sporadic reports of rusty fog, usually in some remote part of the world. Now it was everywhere, choking out the sun, and somehow was part of the reason why the global average temperature had jumped to twenty-two.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
![A vintage instant-film photograph capturing the back view of a woman walking down a foggy, wet city street at night in Old Montreal, Quebec. She has blonde hair tied back, is wearing grey headphones, a grey zip-up hoodie, dark jeans, and an olive-green canvas backpack, and is holding a clear, dome-shaped umbrella over her head. The atmospheric lighting creates a dramatic, pervasively orange fog, which diffuses the warm streetlamps and vehicle headlights. Storefronts with French signage like 'LIBRAIRIE CANA[DIENNE]' (Canadian Bookstore) are visible through the haze on the right. Distant, blurred figures of other pedestrians with umbrellas and an STM city bus are integrated into the foggy background. The heavy film grain, softened details, and organic color bleeding are enclosed within a textured cream-colored paper border.](https://evelynchartres.com/wp-content/uploads/bubblegum-justice-walking-away-300x290.jpg)
