Oliver waited underneath a flickering light post, in a parking lot, beside the train station. It was a dark and unwelcoming scene. Weeds grew from cracked pavement and a nearby industrial bin reeked a stench so foul it made Oliver's eyes sting. He lit a cigarette. Breathing in the smoke for the first time in three years, he tilt his head back and let the smoke creep from his lungs. He savoured the toxic taste and the coarse way it felt in his throat. As he scanned the car park for Dex, he couldn't shake this anxious feeling.
It was a very surreal thing to be back in Covington. It seemed the very air fuelled the devastating thoughts he spent this whole time away trying to destroy. Oliver had been in such a destructive head space the whole time he was here. A life time worth of misfortune and trauma birthed the voices inside his head, in this very town. He struggled instantly with the craving, a dull longing in his chest, to slide back into a more familiar lifestyle. One filled with manic desires and dark mischief. I haven't recovered, not really, Oliver decided. And he took in another deep breath of smoke, holding it in until his head ached.
Dex flashed his headlights, just the same moment Oliver spotted his face in the glow of his phone. Oliver blinked hard, two blue dots burned into his vision. He slunk over to the passenger door. Putting out his cigarette on the top of the car, embers showered over the window. He tugged at the handle and slid into the seat, keeping an empty stare dead ahead. Still lost in the belief that he'll always be a child born of gloom.
