Flamoose
untitled
Somehow it never ceases to amaze me just how dead this town can get at night. How it's just me that gets crazed enough under this full moon to get out on the deserted streets in the middle of the night: marvellous.
Officially, I'm on a cigarette run, but something aching inside me compels me to wander around aimlessly and alone in this cold winter night. With all my heart I embrace the non-existant fear of getting mugged, as I pass poorly-lit shop windows; baby clothes, wedding gowns, bikes, tv's on sale; and go into the night shop.
For some reason, the guy at the cash register's got a rubber band across his head. I dream of asking him about it and kicking up a conversation about the many purposes of rubber bands, MacGuyverisms, and how we're the only ones alive in this town on this ungodly hour, and why, but that's all just a thought. We conclude the business transaction - five twenty-five - and that's it.
That's it.
I push forward with fresh cigarette lit, pausing for a second in the middle of an otherwise crowded intersection to look about the wasteland around me. Truly I'm alone tonight. In any direction, there is nothing and noone. It's not even raining.
By day, this town's never this interesting. By night, it's ever so lonely. And all the places I walk by somehow come to be a distant past as soon as I'm a few steps away. A few steps further to nowhere.
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Just think of all the people who expected a vagina-related piece :p But seriously, I think I'll change the title in a while. After oh, say, five more comments? :p
i like this, but i'm having trouble coming up with a proper response to give you. so you get a generic 'good job!' and that's that.