Empty

He wore a simple shirt and chinos everyday.  He had four such shirts and two pairs of pants and the laundrymat was just under a mile away.  His house was a small box – an entrance right into the “living area” behind which sat a kitchen and eating area.  Two rooms and a bathroom down a small hallway.  At 6 AM sharp on Monday-Friday he opened the door to usually crisp, cool air.  His car, the aging Mercury Monarch, was serviceable and clean and he arrived at work in 45 minutes or less.  He dreamed of moving to the city.  Of a simple apartment and a walk to work.  Of a White Owl on the way home on cool nights.  Never on the way in, he doesn’t want to smell of cigar when he arrives.  On the way home.  He rarely sees anyone immediately after work, and even if he does manage to grab a fast-food dinner, so what?  If he were to see someone or have a date or event, he’d shower first, anyway. 

 

It concerned him that no one really was out downtown after about 6PM unless there was an event or something.  Kind of odd, really.  A big city with mostly empty buildings for 12, 14, 16 hours a day.