@distopea For Mattia
The hours aren't what they supposed to be, or how he expected them to turn out. It was supposed to be a normal run to fetch groceries; a sales discount or otherwise, he'll beg for crumbs with little to no greens left in his pocket. A dissatisfied feeling, and not without dragging his knees in these ghost parts of the evening, the sidewalks unoccupied, and an eerie sense of someone watching a fellow such as himself.
Each step was worse than the first, and the near collapse made him buckle down until he slid down the brick wall. It's just like the old days when he slept upon these pavements. Not a memory he would love to dwell on, or otherwise he'll believe himself to be—
Worthless or an outworn street filth polluting the streets. No one is here in these hours, thankfully. He can finally take the time to get his bearings and let his knees recover for the time being. That is, if they have any energy left.
And the last resort is sleeping in these streets for the thousandth time.
There were a dozen of them, more than he could count. Knuckles stained a dark shade of purple, and his face; cheeks had a few markings from a knife. He can thank himself for avoiding a stab wound, or otherwise, this journey would be more of a burden than anything else.
A rest is all he needs. That's it.
But before he can drift away to this silence, one eyelid opened to peek at the stranger.
"Yes?"
Empty of emotions except for this exhaustion he succumbed to. "You're not here to steal my shit, are you? I've dealt with many hooligans earlier tryin to kill me, I don't need more trouble, my kind gentlemen. Legs are made out of twigs. All this walking will send me to my grave."
He shut his eyes and then opened them again to remind himself to stay calm under this abrupt appearance.
"Sorry, long night. What can I say, though? I do look like a fish out of water, away from the piranhas, right?" A lighthearted chuckle before downcasting. "More like a runt surrounded by the big dogs..."
