he sits on the bench and starts crying

Jesus, what was that!?

a thing crawled out from
under the park bench he
was sleeping on

it didn't look like a stray dog
when it ran away
didn't look like an animal
at all
the thing ran on two legs
and it ran fast

he stood and checked his
shoes and the shoes were on his feet
then he checked his
pockets for his most important
possession
in this world - his ID

it was there

tomorrow was supposed to be
a big day
He had a job interview
for a position as night guard
at a fishing lake

he would be given a
modest salary and a small
cabin to stay in
and all he'd have to do would
be sound the alarm if someone
comes to fish illegally in the lake

the job of his dreams

He could dedicate the time spent
in the cabin to watching the lake
and dreaming
and writing and maybe... maybe....
dare he think it? Maybe... even
making it into the industry one day

but as he sits back he realizes
the day will most probably not
be tomorrow
the sharp pain in his side
says so
and his hand reaches to it
and returns before the dim
distant lights of the park alley
holding a rusty syringe needle,
it's tip bloody

the syringe is under the bench

he sits on the bench and
starts crying

why? Why? WHY?

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