I am not concerned that you have fallen. I am concerned that you arise.
He looked at me then, his black eyes drilling into mine. I couldn’t help but think – I’d never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them.
On this moonless night even the silhouettes are gone. The usual friendly smattering of stars is obscured utterly by dense cloud. Ordinarily he would stay in the old bank on a night like this but the Happy Boys took every pharmaceutical in the store. That’s going to be the highest form of currency pretty soon, not to mention he might need the drugs someday. They are hauled up in what was once the police station. By day they are thick over the streets of the Eastside, armed to the teeth and firing bullets randomly into buildings or at strangers for target practice. He is betting that by evening they are drunk and by night they are passed out. He can’t assume they aren’t smart enough to leave a sentry on duty, so despite the first bite of winter in the air I will have to be slow, silent, unseen.
The blackness takes over his soul leaving him hopeless and numb.