Night-life

Waking to a setting sun tells me that I've sleeping the entire day. Chocolate still lies there asleep naked on the bed with disturbed covers. I Stand here, peering through the window. That orange sunset irritating my eyes. Slowly the streets grow quiet as the sun leaves. It's time to go. After a bath I dress and prepare to leave. Chocolate yet still sleeps, undisturbed by my movements. Having nothing to say, I don't wake her. After leaving her money on the small table I felt.

The temperature plumits in the absence of the sun, Leaving a chill to the open air.

I leave as I came, with the pearing of my ride and an unpleasant scowl. There is a meeting I must attend which I've put off long enough. But first, lunch.

Before long I cut the engine. Leaving my baby parked on this slow street infront of Harvie's Cook house. A Quant little restaurant. A diamond in the ruff. But his business will struggle so long as he remains in this district. No one wants to get mugged on a food run.

Its a shame that centiment can make a man suffer anything and he's far too sentimental to give up on this place.

That familiar old chimen rings as I push open the door. In the open kitchen with a direct view of the entrance. An old man bald with baggy eyes and wrinkled freckled skin peeks over. Seeing me enter he smiles as he finished his last order and places the food on the counter. A soft ring echoes through the modest lounge of one waiting customer.

" my boy, it's been a while since you've paid a visit to my shop, months. I was beginning to thing that life finally caught up to you." He speaks jokingly.

Amused, I slightly shake my head with a sly smirk" not yet" I said, while placing my next cigarette in my mouth. This time it's purely Marijuana unspiked for a titillating finish.

" I'll have whatever you're cooking" I said uncaring of what I'd be fed. Never has he disappointed.

The third person in here leaves the dimly lit lounge. Fat with a greedy face. His eyes drooping from exhaustion. Dirtied clothes of black grease stains and dust indicate his physically intensive profession. Perhaps mechanic, a dying breed propped up only by those with a taste for the vintage. He avoids eye contact as he takes his food and leaves. I'd guess he's middle aged living alone without children.

" so, how's it been old man. what have you been up to" I asked friendly while reaching over and beneath the counter trying to fetch that familiar bottle of black Gin. He slides a glass over before heading into the kitchen. " Nothing much changed, its all still the same"

A sizzling pot disseminates the salivatory scent of beef. I imagine it's juicy texture steaming cooly. The burning pinch of Gin runs down my throat. The night drags. I'm already on my third drink and third cigarette. Night crawlers slowly crawl from their hiding spots to signal the arrival of night-life.

" why watch that stupid thing. Television only ever tell stupid stories." Said the old man as he walks from the kitchen with my food in hand. " Yet you hang it on the wall for all to see. what else is a man to do while he waits. besides, not all of it is bad. There are some interesting stories."

I gaze upon the food presented. Roast beef with sautéed vegetables. It looks as though it is lacking but I've long learned never to underestimate his cooking.

" it's not hard to impress you young people. A little plot twist and you praise such drivel."

First bite and I'm once again impressed. I can't help but to smile. It's been months since I've eaten so well. " You're just angry you're getting old. I'm sure an old man said the same to you once... the old can never appreciate the changes of time."

He scoffs as he slowly pours himself a drink. " you youngsters will never understand."

I chuckle" guessing you were told the same once"

He changes the channel to one that airs reruns of old movies. This one in particular tells the story of a boy, lost in an unforgiving world. A needless depiction of suffering in my opinion. It wreaks of pretentiousness.

" so, how's the Mrs" I ask. Rare it is to not see his wife tending to business alongside him.

" she's... visiting her sister." He's obviously distressed, always had a terrible poker face but it's not my place to pry.

We let the television speak as I eat. Half of the movie later and the movie's end is blearing obvious. But I cannot stay to its conclusion. Finished with my meal, I rise.

" guess it's time for business" he smiles, I can see the pitty in his eyes. Misplaced really. His concerns are of no concern to me.

" Yeah, see you around old man." I leave with a satisfied stomach. As I step outside, my world returns to that dreary grey and cold chill. Fourth cigarette.

My baby purrs as I once again drive through these streets. The further we go, lethargy grows. lifeless dark streets with the occasional sentinel observing in their conspicuous dark vehicles.

This is my destination. A pseudo mention in the middle of bland and blocky apartment complexes.

I park in a visible spot infront so that all would know I have come. I take a minuit adjusting my seat to retrieve a black envelope. A slight chill and frosty breath sets in once I stepped outside. The nights are getting colder. Every year it comes sooner but it never snows, only uncomfortable cold. My feet lightly pat the cold concrete. Sending a soft echoes through the night. Grabbing the attentions of evil eyed sentinels, all dressed in black and cautious of movement and observation.

This walk gets shorter every time but it's length never changes. Standard at the large double doors two men decked in black eye me with serious expressions. They recognize and enroll me inside. With a nod of the head they push open those steel doors engraved with demons. Surprisingly the doors didn't creek, obviously they must been fixed. A welcomed surprise.

Confusing halls and frustratingly too many doors, dimly lit in all the right places. This place proves to be an intruders nightmare. My body temperature regulates in this insulated place. Eery silence and stale air is it's calling card. Every step audable as though walking on hard wood floors. I can even hear my own breath.

Before long I arrive at my final destination. Envelope in hand I push open the moderately sized wooden door leading to a small room. Inside I see twelve men, seated as they talked calmly. A rectangular table separates six and five of them, the final one sits at the head. All dressed in black, their faces tell of many differing stories but their eyes scream of their common evil.

I join the side of five then slid the envelope on the table to the head without a word.

like the rest of them my eyes too gleam evily. The sixth cigarette, this time laced for a different taste to waste the senses.