We bump into each other every other day. As soon as the doors shut, we nod and pretend to be busy in our own way. Sometimes he will count the stripes on his shirt. At times I will marvel at the condition of my worn out shoe. We never wanted to break the silence within those four steel walls. For it was our own sacred space which we co-inhabited.
Looks like the fog just spared my window to the street. The street lights looked liking smokers in an alley. The cobble stones were wet from the drizzle. The street dogs were busy barking at something. A breeze just unsettled the garbage can's lid. My world hasn't changed much. Everyday I look for some sign of change. Nothing seems to change. I have grown bald. My eyesight has dimmed. My kids have grown. The window pane has gathered dust and dirt. The spiders have evolved. Some old buildings have given way to new ones. The neon signs have gone. Still nothing seem to have changed. Change they say has to come from within. But then, what can come out of an empty narrow dead end?
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