Prologue
Chapter One
It was dark and windy. That's about all that I remember now, but that's how it was. It sounds awfully un-poetic, to describe something in such a droll manner. I have no choice. That's how it was. That's how I'll always remember it.
Dark. And windy. And maybe a little lonely.
As it was windy, there were many things blowing about in the air. Nothing too interesting other than the passing leaf, really. And so, naturally, I chose to ignore it. The only downside to the wind was how it blew the smoke from my cigarette directly into my face, forcing me to crane my neck in a new direction each and every time I blew smoke.
Annoying.
As I look down, preparing to release another nicotine cloud, I stop. A piece of paper had fallen onto my shoes. I was tempted to kick it aside, until I noticed writing on it. At this point, curiosity got the better of me, and so I reached down and lifted the paper to my eyes. I had been out walking all day, thus had left my reading glasses at home. The dull light from the nearby street lamp sure didn't help the situation.
These were god-awful lyrics. God-awful. Whoever wrote them must not have been using their brain, or what little of it they had in their possession. I don't mean to come off sounding cocky, but my opinion carries a lot of weight in this world. At this point in our little story, I had just won the Naoki Award for Literature. What does that mean?
A little sticker on the covers of one of my novels. Nothing too flashy.
"Wait!"
My eyes trailed upward as my thoughts were interrupted. Although I was glad to see something other than these dreadful words splashed drunkenly onto paper, what gaze met my eyes was certainly not much better.
A kid. A punk kid, at that, with dyed pink hair and dirty, old clothes. Putting two and two together, it was pretty obvious who the true writer of these lyrics was, "Did you write this?" Naturally, I asked anyway. It's human nature to ask questions you already know the answer to. It makes conversations very quick and simple.
The kid didn't respond right away. He looked surprised. Did I surprise him? It wouldn't surprise me if I did. It was fairly late, after all, and it wasn't every day you saw a man such as myself walking around a park. Especially late at night.
I wasn't planning on sticking around for this kid to answer. I was more interested in getting home. Deciding to make his execution quick, I started towards him, making sure to veer off to the right, "You have absolutely zero talent. You should quit writing and learn a reliable trade."
Harsh. Some things just need to be said.
I kept my pace walking home. I didn't even bother to look back at the kid. Why bother? He was just one of those people you meet and forget.
The whisper that dissolves into the bustling crowd…
It happens all the time in life.
Makes the memories scattered underfoot blur together…
Goddamnit. Those lines were horrible. And yet there they were, floating around in my head as I walked down the sidewalk on the way home.
The blazing of the street where I walk about lost…
For a moment, I wished that I had just driven around tonight. At least then I could have listened to the radio.
Glaring one way…
Not that anything the media spews out nowadays is worth listening to.
Illuminates me as coldly as though it freezes…
Good lord, anything is better than this. "As coldly as though it freezes"? Honestly, what kind of line is that!?
I never realized how stuck I was then. The whole walk home, everything I looked at reminded me of that song. That goddamn song. That goddamn pitiful excuse of a love song.
The words that I have to give to you are…
Maybe I could sleep it off. Hopefully, come morning, it will be gone. I pray to God when I wake up, those crummy lyrics will be forever removed from my mind.
It talks to myself…
And then I woke up.
Falling into an everyday routine, even without shadows…