The taste of snow flowed through the air. White wisps of clouds circled around spoken words, and red embers of cigarettes fell down onto wet pavement. Lips savored the bitter wind, and trees waved back and forth in the distance. And luminous shadows stole across the full moon.

The streets were quiet tonight. The scent of winter had chased everyone indoors, but not everyone was so lucky. Fires blazed in trash cans in dark alleyways, and hooded figures huddled around them. And I knew shelter was nearby, and they knew it. But they were afraid of going there and felt safer living on the street.

Flames flickered in their eyes, and haunted words slipped from their lips. Their hands reached out toward me, but I had nothing to give. Their expressions remained blank, pale faces, but I could hear their hearts pounding the pavement. And I wished that I could save them, but I couldn’t. And it would be safer for them to keep away from me.

The wind was stirring again, and a newspaper rolled by. Headlines screamed of crimes once thought unheard, but monsters now walk these streets. They could live next door, be your best friend, or remain in darkness, waiting to strike. It was like an epidemic, and innocent blood was constantly being spilled. Senseless death poured a thousand tears over a freshly buried grave, and if I could save them, I would. But what would they then become?

The warmth of the diner rushed over me, but it couldn’t silence the chill. The edge of winter was already slicing in, and soon I would no longer be able to take these long walks. The aroma of perfume caught me off guard, and my eyes fell deep into those of the waitress. But then my gaze retreated to the menu because I knew better, and my order was merely a cup of coffee. And she hurried away like a sly fox, thinking that I liked her, but she had no idea. And she would be safer, if she stayed away.

I savored the aroma of coffee, but I had not drunk it in a very long time. Like an alcoholic, I merely stared at it, wanting it with every fiber of my being, but it would be like drinking poison. And no matter how tempting that pool of black liquid was, I knew better, but still my fingers dangled along the cup’s edge. And I breathed in deeply.

“Long night?” My eyes returned to hers. “It’s late, isn’t it?”

“Not late enough for me.”

“I see that.” The waitress lingered beside the table. “What’s your poison?”

“Excuse me?”

“Insomnia keeping you up?”

“No. I get enough sleep during the day.”

“So, you work at night?”

“No.” I watched her fingers slide over the smooth, marble surface. “I don’t work.”

“Are you an artist?”

“No.” I knew that she was waiting for some sort of pickup line, but I would not deliver it. “I’m just passing through.”

“Oh, really. Where did you come from?” I laughed at her question. “What?”

“Nothing. That’s just an interesting question.” I paused for a long moment. “I’ve lived everywhere.” She looked confused. “I travel a lot.”

“So, I guess you’ll be moving on soon?”

“I would say so.” I heard a name being called from the kitchen, knowing that it was hers. “It would be safer, if I didn’t stay too long.”

Her expression showed that another question was coming, but she was being called away. And I was grateful to be left alone. She did not need to bother with me, but she wouldn’t forget me either. And when the police came the next day, she would describe my every feature, but that didn’t matter because they would never find me. I would hide somewhere nearby, resting, and then I would be gone shortly after sunset.

The feel of the leather seat underneath me made me nostalgic. I remembered a world lost to this one, and only fragments of its existence filtered through the Hollywood scene. I know we came so far, but did we realize what we lost? I could feel humanity slipping through my fingers, and as I surveyed the small diner, I saw nothing but those connected to technology. I realized that after another decade or so, there would be no more survival but pure dependency on gadgets and gizmos, but what would happen, if technology seized to exist? Would they disappear along with it? Would that be the end of me?

There were only a handful of people in the diner at this hour. A couple curled up together in a booth nearby. The girl was busy texting, and the guy was chattering away on his cell phone. And if you turned the clocks back, they would be the odd ones sticking out, space men, but it was me that was the sore thumb. And if they were smart, they would leave soon.

Two loners caught my attention, but which one to choose? I had to be smart. I made a mistake once, and I still carry the burden of that regret. I took him away from his wife and child, but who would have thought that a man like him would even have a family? I saw what was really lurking beneath that façade, a monster waiting to be born, and I knew the lives that he would take. But I took his first, and now it was time to decide.

The two men bore a similarity to each other. They were dressed casually, sitting alone in the far corners of the place, and their eyes drifted across the waitress that passed by them. One took out a wallet filled with cash, but the other merely pulled a pool of change out of his pocket. They paid for their coffee and food at roughly the same time, and they would surely depart after the other. But which one would it be?

The rich man barely left a tip, but the other struggled to leave more than he had. This settled my decision, and I waited. I let the poor man slip out into the bitter hands of the cold outside, and the other man followed. I rose from my seat, dropping a twenty on the table and slipped through the doors. But unlike the two men before me, no reflection was cast against the glass.

I later found the poor man huddled over a burning barrel on my trek home. His stomach still rumbled from hunger, and his hands folded together, praying for warmth. His face was expressionless, but life flowed through those pale eyes. And his mouth fell open as I handed him a wallet full of cash, but before he could thank me, I vanished from sight. And he was left alone, but when the police come and search for him, they would not find him. He was going home, a place, where I could never return, but another city waited for me.

Midnight Stroll

by, Melissa R. Mendelson