A New Day Awaits

A man awaits the morning

He wore a heavy jacket because the warmth in the air was thin, and was only internal. His heat came from his inner furnace, his metabolism burning any twigs of energy. He moves his feet quickly ahead of the other because the crescent moon shaves the darkness of the December night slowly. This man, whose features are blotted by the obtuse shadows of the night, is afraid he does not remember his circumstance. He fears the morning because the rising of another day will pull along the encompassing dawn and the caressing of light will bring more unfamiliarity. For now, the passing man recognizes the night and its vague summary of his environment.  With the darkness the walking man can continue in his denial, he can retain the belief that everything had gone well, and nothing was going to bite him in the fat of his a*s by sunrise. He laughed at his own denial and yet he still flirted with it, everything is just fine, he told the stars, the stars winked like they had always done.

There was the splash of a mostly empty flask in the inside pocket of his jacket. This flask, it wasn’t empty due to a pessimistic outlook on the behalf of the unaccredited man, but rather the style in which the liquid had become most anything. The man splashed the biting drink into his face and for that reason alone it was half empty. He wondered whether he should pour the rest of the bottle puddle down his throat, making it empty or not full, however your perspective directs you, have the remainder of the liquid warmth dribble down his throat like roof gutter scum and wobble his drunken skull into the bone dusting reality of sunshine. This man strolling down the streets paved with anxiety wasn’t a vampire; he wouldn’t be impaled by the spears of sunlight when they pitched over the eastern horizon.  His eyes may wince in an expected betrayal, but his skin would not crumble into dust, or worse, twinkle like a damn fairies. The sun light wouldn’t maim him physically, but it was going to bash his sense of stability into a fermented pulp.

Author's Note

I like that I don't know anything about this person or what he's done

Reviews

[Chadvonswan]

What the hell? I read this this morning, wrote a comment, but apparently it didn't publish. What i said was "This is the character from my convenient store story" haha..
The last sentence was a impeccable conclusion to the whole piece, it really said all there is to say about this guy