the dense fog parts in the victorian alleyway...hard footsteps pound the distant cobblestones, steadily approaching you...
as the alley narrows, the click of their sturdy soles reverberates through your body and the old masonry
the moisture in the air mixes with the glow of cars and towering street lamps, shadows dance and grow against the buildings and pavement, concealing the identities of every soul..
a slender shape emerges in the distance, lit from behind by the gleaming fog and smooth reflective stones
what confrontation awaits such an encounter? who would dare walk these streets at this hour? why are you here, crumpled on the rain soaked ground? how did you get here? what day is it...
the endless loop of questions and self reflection distracts you from the halting tread ending centimeters from your fingers
a frigid hand reaches out, welcoming yet ominious, darkness muddling the unique features of the figure its attached to
what have you got to lose...
reach out to accept