The Art of My Neighbor Totoro

It was a chilly night in November,
and his name was Jeremy.

Jeremy was an police officer, biking back down a long ہل, لندن returning from shift at nearly two o'clock in the morning. He wheezed, watching his breath flow out from chapped lips. He shivered through his dark brown suit, jacketless. He felt icicles forming on the tips of his messy black hair. As he neared the bottom of the steep hill, a faint cry could be heard clearer and clearer. A sudden vision of a woman-- no-- a girl came into view. Jeremy's eyes widened as he hopped off of his bike, pulling it along with him as he ran down the...