As I lay dying, the man in white smiled. I suppose he smiled for many reasons, but none so high as the glee that one achieves from seeing a project through to its completion. I was his project and the satisfaction

(I can’t get no...)

he had showed on his face as he looked down into my eyes knowing what functions began to close up shop for the night. That’s all folks and that’s all she wrote, some would say. I could say little, nothing in fact, but I was alright. I knew. I had known for a while, and now I knew for sure and I could rest.

As I lay there, the man in white smiled, and I smiled back as I stepped away into oblivion.

Where are my manners (I’m sure perhaps they’ve spilled out somewhere, remind me not to forget them, I’m always losing things they say)? Here I am taking a quick break on the pavement of what, Lord knows. I’d long since stopped paying attention to petty details like geography, time, et cetera since the hunt.

(The thrill is in the hunt it’s all in the--)

I, personally, would call it a hunt, although it was more of a vigil. A silent quest of sorts. Then again, I suppose these are but empty words upon a blank canvas.

(Words, words, more words and yet nothing came out, nothing escaped-- )

I haven’t thought about time for a long time. Time marches on to its own beat of its own damn drum, and if you’re offbeat, then what? Time, it’s the one thing I miss the most: leisure. Downtime, hell, uptime, north time, left-time, I’ve left time-- I’m not picky. How much time had passed, I suppose, now of all times, I have nothing but time on my hands. The wonderful irony of the universe. Suppose I give way, go with the flow, for a while and weave the strands of time around the cobwebs inside the deeper, philosophic parts of my mind that have long been abandoned

(abandon ship! The captain always goes down he always goes down)

in favor of baser, more practical instincts. I’m finding my eyes close, slowly, and a tapestry of colors and shapes looms in my vision and dance before me for my pleasure. I’m finding my eyes close and the world closes as well. You know what they say though, one door never closes without a window being opened, and like a wet-behind-the-ears home invasion specialist I stumble, exhausted, my heart pumping what feels like its last beats. I stumble into that window and upon reopening my eyes I–