T.M strolled the reconstructed streets of Chicago with her hands jammed into her jeans. and with her head down. Her dark shadowed grey hoodie felt baggy on her self being, yes, which made it almost a size to large. T.M had no desire in hiding from the government, and even from herself. Though it seemed rather complicated, she went with the small flow of pedestrians and people on the street. Then, out of the corner of her eye, the sites of fire somewhat made a few specks in her peripheral vision. Turning her head slightly from it's low angle, she crosses the street and starts traveling the small distance of a block.