The cigarette burned as he pulled the foul taste of the charcoal filter into his lungs, no tobacco left as the ember licked at his lips. The rain fell softly, glazing the lime-light of the nearby park lamp, a silent reprieve from the penance he wrought with his "coffin nail."
"What am I doing here?" He thought to himself as he examined his moist clothing, shoes rippling a small puddle at his feet. "What am I doing?" These question raced through his head. Just 3 years prior he was a well of young man, a political science major. Another hopeful, looking to prove that humanity wasn't commended to devouring itself in conflict. That we were good. That we could rise again, to meet ourselves and survive. "Survive, I always thought, we'd survive."
The sound of his lighter is drowned out by the soft patter of rain. "What am I trying to prove?" Politics was always his life, he reveled in its intricacies, reciting its history, replaying event, assuring himself, he would never make those mistakes, he would make a difference, even if it cost him everything. But like so many hopefuls, the reality of life, the reality of San Paro was a weight he could not lift to meet his shoulders. Like so many before him, the liars and the cheats swarmed him, like a sickly gazelle, ready for another fool, too trusting, too honest.
The chaos that was now San Paro was his proving ground, his experiment, that through these fires, through the anarchy, that we would survive. "Fight fire with fire right?" If the systems was to burn, he wanted to be there. He wanted to see, for himself, that from its ashes, we would prevail.
Another flamed licked his lips as he let out a long sigh, letting the cigarette slip from his lips into the puddle beneath him. A satisfying fizzle as it landed. The flashing red and blue of overheads illuminating the park bench where he rested. The colors flooding his eyes, dimming and softening the world around him. "What could they be after?" His eyes tracing the car. "Shut up, stop thinking." He leaned back on the bench, his mind no longer racing. He slid another cigarette from his pack, the flick of his lighter comforting him as the heat reached to his lungs again. A smile crept along his face. The dull hum of the park lamps and rain finally prevailing over his thoughts. He reveled in the moment. For once, he could hear his beloved city again.
"What am I doing here?" He thought to himself as he examined his moist clothing, shoes rippling a small puddle at his feet. "What am I doing?" These question raced through his head. Just 3 years prior he was a well of young man, a political science major. Another hopeful, looking to prove that humanity wasn't commended to devouring itself in conflict. That we were good. That we could rise again, to meet ourselves and survive. "Survive, I always thought, we'd survive."
The sound of his lighter is drowned out by the soft patter of rain. "What am I trying to prove?" Politics was always his life, he reveled in its intricacies, reciting its history, replaying event, assuring himself, he would never make those mistakes, he would make a difference, even if it cost him everything. But like so many hopefuls, the reality of life, the reality of San Paro was a weight he could not lift to meet his shoulders. Like so many before him, the liars and the cheats swarmed him, like a sickly gazelle, ready for another fool, too trusting, too honest.
The chaos that was now San Paro was his proving ground, his experiment, that through these fires, through the anarchy, that we would survive. "Fight fire with fire right?" If the systems was to burn, he wanted to be there. He wanted to see, for himself, that from its ashes, we would prevail.
Another flamed licked his lips as he let out a long sigh, letting the cigarette slip from his lips into the puddle beneath him. A satisfying fizzle as it landed. The flashing red and blue of overheads illuminating the park bench where he rested. The colors flooding his eyes, dimming and softening the world around him. "What could they be after?" His eyes tracing the car. "Shut up, stop thinking." He leaned back on the bench, his mind no longer racing. He slid another cigarette from his pack, the flick of his lighter comforting him as the heat reached to his lungs again. A smile crept along his face. The dull hum of the park lamps and rain finally prevailing over his thoughts. He reveled in the moment. For once, he could hear his beloved city again.
