He steps from the plush velvet darkness of the cinema, into the wet glistening street. Images from the screen dance, flickering red - luminous at the back of his eyelids. Nudged and bumped he moves hesitantly, blindly through the throng, his reflection ripples in pools and puddles - tyres hiss as traffic passes by. A hand thrusts something in his direction, as his eyes adjust to the weak grey light - a girl - her eyes hold his own for one still second - he is enveloped in their liquid depths, dark and grey. Fascinated - his own blank eyed smile turns hers instantly away; she presses another passer-by with a flyer, as his lingering grin, adds a darker shade to a cold grey day.
Later, bathed in the orange glow of streetlight, he pulls the flyer from deep within his pocket - smoothes the creases. Reads the name of a bar - there is a map and so he walks leisurely yet with purpose, beneath the cold vaulted heavens pinpricked with stars. A billion cold eyes gazing down, dead eyes watching from their dead eyed past. He drifts like the wisps of blue smoke trailing from burning cigarettes, inhaled by those few, standing at the door of a bar, that at first looks trendy – ish.
He feels at home in the night, moving confidently, seductively through the crowd and there she is - again. Her eyes now sparkle with drink and laughter and…the music of the spheres he thinks and laughs out loud.
Time flies - soon he’s ordering her a taxi - to her place - her flat - her home.
A kiss - and she’s sat in the back, with him, the coloured lights of neon streaming, fractured in the raindrops on the windows pane - pain? She frowns and lets it pass - the thought. The engine rumbles as they speed into the night.
The door clunks and engine fades - they stagger and stumble. He catches her and picks up her bag. The key rattles in the lock and she hiccoughs and laughs. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ Then pulls him close - lipstick and saliva mingle and soon he falls headlong - deep into the dark grey windows of her soul.
He wakes and smiles - another day - and dresses quietly - reverently. She lies silent as the night, her face buried deep in the pillow - he slips on his shoes. The door clicks closed behind him and like a shadow he is gone. ‘The second floor,’ She said, he remembers, ‘that’s where I live.’ She said. He pulls the flyer from his pocket - ‘I live?’ A strange phrase he thinks, discarding the crumpled sheet behind the stairwell door - marked EXIT.
Scuttling insect-like, his feet click rapidly down the stairs. He smiles but his eyes remain blank - cold. Yet lovingly he caresses the two sightless orbs that rest wetly between his fingers - deep in his pocket - still shiny, sightless – still bloody and warm.