The Alley

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.

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