A Trail of Shadows
You are on your way to work now, hands tucked in your coat pockets, head cast down. When you dodge your way through the ice-cold streets, you are like a shadow at the break of dawn. You meet few people on these soulless streets. Delivery trucks, often the same ones, let their tires screech loudly on the pavement. You recognize them by their variegated bodywork, they remind you of children's toys. Already the drivers look dog-tired. Birds are flying around, striating the morning sky with the patterns of their flight. In your ears, their chirping sounds like a scream of panic. They are dead right on the warning, you can feel it, but you cannot tell them so. You hop across the wet pavement to beat the cold seeping through your whole body. You don't like their city, but you have to admit it: this morning it smells of warm bread and steaming hot coffee.