I spent an hour wandering the streets tonight.
There were people there, but it was empty. Faded words on walls spraypainted a picture of an apocalypse that had already come to pass. My pockets began to fill with the things that had been left behind.
Alcohol seemed to make the process go more smoothly. Isn't that always the way.
A friend I'd never met told me that I could talk to them, if I needed someone; perhaps they even meant it, or thought they did at the time.
The only sound was a distant drone. The only thing on TV was static. The only things in the bathtub were cigarettes.
I'm not sure if the blue screens were a way out, or a hole leading deeper, but either way, I did eventually find something in the darkness. It wasn't a light, exactly, but it was hot.