Surviving Nighttime, Alone

I sat on the cold, stone bench underneath the flickering yellow neon lights. One late commuter walked out of the train standing still on the rails and quickly escaped into the late night sky.

The train hissed, the doors closed, and soon it was on its way, speeding the few people inside away.

A sudden silence swept across the room, filled only with dripping water and the scurrying paws of God-knows-what in the dank graffitied corners, where small piles of debris, dust, and food wrappers lay.

I laid down on the bench, resting my greasy hair on my smudged backpack. I wrapped my threadbare jacket closer around me.

A sudden gust filled the silence, and it scattered a dropped newspaper across the empty terminal.

I shivered, and tried to will myself to be warmer, but I knew it was hopeless.

I had no home, no warm bed, no good food, no wife, no children, no family, no job, no money, no warmth.

I had nothing, and expected nothing.

The night obeyed my expectations, and another freezing draft swept through.

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