The street was pitch black. Most of the street lights had been knocked out and never replaced, but it didn't matter. Jonathan kept his head down while he walked, anyway. He knew exactly where he was going. Three more steps and a right turn.

His exchange with the man was fast. Rehearsed and perfected with time. Only a trained eye could tell something had been traded. Fortunately for them, such a person was not watching.

Jonathan kept walking the way he'd been going, even though his apartment was in the opposite direction. He went to the gas station and bought food he didn't need. With his newly acquired items he turned back toward home.

Everything bought at the store was immediately thrown on the floor when Jonathan walked in the door. He turned around to make a quick phone call at the phone booth before returning to his room to sleep.

And so life repeated, day after day. Sometimes he went to bed alone, other times not. Occasionally he stayed up for days at a time, drugged induced or otherwise. It didn't matter. The pattern was still the same. And Jonathan thought to himself: So this is life?