Noon bailed off the train just before midnight. His railway ride ended, abruptly, in the city centre; a punk kid had dragged a bedbug-ridden couch onto the line. And so, a shit day got ten times shittier. The termination of his train left him stranded downtown, surrounded by late night shoppers and bar hoppers.

He knew it was narcissistic, but he was somehow offended that they could go on with their lives while his life was under attack.

“I guess I’ll walk the rest of the distance.”

Capitalism’s neon success faded into the distance.

It was still raining.