Midnight Alleyway Cigarette

[BrianEtrius]

Just a little ditty that I wrote.
--------------------------------------
ItâEUTMs cold, he finally said out loud.

It would be a good five minutes before he had finally realized he had said those words out loud. To him those words still floated around in his mind, dancing in his consciousness like children on a playground. Yet it was not life that was keeping his mind in check, rather it was the lack of it.

His slender suited body leaned back on the brick wall of the city alleyway, at his feet his cigarette butts. As the only person on the block (he had planned it that way) he was naturally smoking as a man of habit. He was on his 4th one now and figured this would be his last. The nicotine helped calm his nerves as he got his thoughts from the night in order.

LetâEUTMs see, he thought, taking a long drag from his American Spirit. How did I get myself in this mess?

I started the night getting off of work and going to LindaâEUTMs, as per usual. We talked some shop about life over some Chinese. Afterwards we decided to go to a bar, where we met Dave and some other guys. DaveâEUTMs crazy younger brother John was there, so we ended up going back to his small apartment for a bit.

He ashes the cigarette and smiles. Davey and John, those crazy bastards. They can never get enough, can they?

So we get to the club and the first thing John does is disappear. Dave and Linda, on the other hand, wanted to get more drinks, so I decided to go and get us some. It seems like an eternity for me to get drinks so by the time I got back Dave and Linda had already gone to the dance floor. I started to talk to the other guys until John came back. What did I have again? Oh yeah, Absolute on the rocks. God that was a shitty drink, and they charged me an arm and a leg for it too. Fucking pricks.

Through the brick wall he feels the continued distinctive thump of bass from the club. Each beat is absorbed through his spine and his find fills in the treble gaps, creating electronic melodies only he can hear. Perhaps it is only in his mindâEUTMs emptiness that such true creative processes happen.

Johnny Boy had come back at that point. Hyper little college student; I knew he might be trouble. He wasnâEUTMt but had just seen a friend and scored some stuff. Having enough to go around, he shared lines with us. Having nothing else to do, I stupidly agreed. The rest of the night is a blur. There was some dancing and some girls. IâEUTMm pretty sure Dave and Linda hooked up but thatâEUTMs none of my business. I had a good time, thatâEUTMs what matters.

The streetlight above him flickers, dimming the alleyway. For the second time in the night he realizes he is finally cold. He stomps out his cigarette and begins to walk out of the alleyway, night finally in order. Yet right before he leaves, he pauses to turn back around to the alley.

What else is there for me to do, he again asks aloud to the alley. There comes no response. He turns and walks out, having received an answer.

My night is ruined, he thinks. I guess I better walk home.