The City

 Boots hit shattered pavement. A rain soaked leather trench coat flows in a soft gust of the wind. A man turns a corner. Hunched figures eye him from a building––both viciously and desperately. It’s the dead of night. The only noises in the dying city are whispers, the flapping of crows’ wings, rats scampering, and the jagged screech of failing radiators.  The soft, lonely gust of the wind echoes through the city, as if it is the raspy, dying breaths of the city. Tall, empty skyscrapers loom over the sad, thin street. 

The sound of glass shattering echoes across the city. The man tightens his hood as he looks back and forth frantically. A figure  holding a black trash bag jumps out a now broken window and dashes through the street. The bag has multiple holes. The bag only has a few items in it. In his hand is a small knife. The hooded man quickly turns and hurriedly walks down an alley. He emerges on the other side and walks down the road, past flickering electronic lights, graffitied walls, bankrupt businesses, beggars, burglars, and everyone in between. Finally, The man trudges through the last stretch of the city, the shattered pavement crunching beneath his feet. 

The man walks past an unmanned toll booth, and out of the city, into the beautiful green rolling hills ahead. The road’s cracks slowly fade away as he gets farther and farther away from the city. Day turns to night,the sky is blue,and when the city is a mere speck in the man's vision, he pulls down his hood, and continues happily walking into the unknown. He doesn’t look back.