Time Out

"S**t" he thought to himself, for he had again forgotten his pack of cigarettes in the back seat of his car, he was a bit late and he wouldn't go back for them, he could control his anxiousness with other things, but certainly not as much as with a good cigarette.

He walked through the sunken streets, humid, rotten smelling streets filled with crooks, filled with despair and sadness, for what is a city but a puddle of sadness? He continued his walk down the street, the noise cramped his ears, giving him the share sense of a bat. Screams, whimpers, laughs, drowning the air with their power, making out of noise a symphony, the symphony of the city. 

He now arrived, he stood in front of a great crystal door, wide, tall, elegant. He turned back and he again caught a look of the bizarre painting of this city he had walked through more than once in his life, he made a small gesture of melancholy, he knew this was his place. He entered the building and left the door swinging, in out, in out, stop.

The circus continued with its show.