Another long day at work. The bench by the bus stop vanished, towed by the city for the winter. It Will be protected and waxed. Polished and forever young.
A shadow , a young shadow. I catch him by the corner of my eyes. A bulge in his pocket. He rushes into the alley by the stop. Into the darkness he marches, runs, walks into the abyss, the unknown.
After a few minutes, he emerges. A grin on his face, and dashes into the vast night.
Curiousity kills the cat or so they say. I ran into the alley, a neat envelope on a brick. A blue envelope. Neat handwriting. A note , all that grin for a note, slightly dissapointed. Thought it would be a joint, a drug, a stack of dirty magazines.
The bus is coming , I can hear it
I ran outside.