The stiffness of a dry and cold air together formed an unlikely will for the man to settle down on a bench exactly outside the bar he had spent the night at, whimpering and drinking until the kindly, yet worried bartender had decided it was prime time for the place to close. In the broad-shouldered man's hand was a bottle of vodka and in the other a picture, it seemed as if he was hollowing over an issue, an event that left the man in pieces as his face was wrinkled in anguish and despair. Just minutes ago, before the bar had closed, the phone in his jacket had buzzed loud enough to disturb the other people sitting in the bar but the man held no concern about other's views. The phone buzzed for a good ten minutes until it stopped. Now in the cold air, his hands were freezing, maybe he should check who the person was in case of someone calling regarding work, alas it wasn't, the person calling was his sister. The strong-willed and fearless little sister had turned into a constant annoying thought that ringed in the back of his head, she was the last of his family and these days were doubtlessly the days that ought to be spent with family. At the presence he only desired solitude, the sweetness of not being bothered with socializing, listening and having someone to listen to the dark thoughts was perhaps needed, yet how the hell could he spit out the troubles out of his mind? They had existed there for a long while and after the incident, the bad thoughts merely increased as the rudeness of time passing continued and resulted in heavily drinking, working and smoking. The mention of cigarettes made him reach for the backpocket, it would sit fine with a smoke, he figured. Shockingly, the pack was empty and distressed he got on his feet to find the nearest small shop to purchase cigarettes, the idea of a withdrawal from the tobacco rolled killers tasted bitter in the mouth. Besides why should he care about his health now that all he had desired to do was done and gone with the person he loved?
Chris Redfield continued on the pavement leading to a trafficked road, despite the hour being late the city was New York and always living therefore not long after walking, he found a tiny shop selling sweets, over-the-counter-medicine and, as he had hoped, cigarretts. He threw the empty vodka bottle in the trashcan outside before going in.
The owner, as they usually looked like, was in his late fifties and had a grey mustache. Rings under his eyes showcased the results behind the store's opening hours which was a twenty four seven open store.
"I'll have a pack of those," uttered Chris, pointing at the Marlboro.
The man reached with a sluggish hand for the red pack and threw them on the counter. "That will be nine dollars." muttered the old man.
A ten dollar bill was placed on the counter. "Keep the change."
Chris immediately seized a cigarette as he stepped outside, lighted it and stared into thin air as people passed him. Some with smiles, laughing with friends, others walked by passionately staring into their partner's face as he or she spoke whilst others rushed past to the subway station located some feet away.
"How the fuck am I going to get through all of this shit?" Chris remarked with the lit cigarette in his mouth.
I just wanted to post something and found this little text I had written a while ago, also there is a chapter coming soon...:) But please, tell me what did you think of this chapter? And the last one if you haven't commented on that! ^_^