November 30, 2011
By KitKat125 SILVER, Somewhere, Indiana
KitKat125 SILVER, Somewhere, Indiana
9 articles 0 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Always write first things uppermost in your heart." --Edgar Allen Poe

The headlights of an oncoming vehicle blazed dimmer than only the sun above. There wasn’t a single cloud to be seen. He shook his head in unconcealed wonder.
Stupid people.
His sole consolation in the ruckus of the busy street was its drowning out of the screeching song of the birds perched in the carefully pruned city trees and along the telephone wires. Despite all the clamor, the sound of his own DC’s hitting the concrete sidewalk echoed in his head as he walked briskly onward, avoiding wads of gum in disgust.
Stiffening slightly as a siren sounded from a distant street, he allowed for no other action that might prove noticeable to a wandering gaze.
He passed a young couple holding hands without a second glance. A small part of him envied them. They were so innocent, so naïve to the cruel reality of the world in which they abided. Still, a larger part wanted to crush that naivety with two quick slashes. Open their eyes, reveal to them the shocking truth. He would be doing them a favor. Fingering the bloodstained knife resting deep inside his jean pocket, he grudgingly dismissed the idea. There were too many people around, too many potential witnesses.
Stupid people.
The bus stop was getting closer now. Like any good citizen, he would ride the bus to the airport. Nothing out of the ordinary. From there he would fly to Mexico. Or Belgium. He smiled to himself. He would go to Belgium.
Belgium had good waffles.
And chocolate.
He liked chocolate.

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