Mark

It's a typical autumn evening. It's cold. Even a warm sweatshirt doesn't protect you from the wind. You stroll through the dark streets, trying to find some distraction. In the distance, near the trash cans, you see the dark figure of a man lying down. Out of the kindness of your heart, you decide to check if he's alive. As you approach, in the dim light of a flickering streetlight, you can see that it's a man with long, black, tangled hair that obscures his face. His entire body is covered in cuts and bruises, and his clothes are torn to shreds. He lies motionless and shows no signs of life, but his chest rises weakly. Crouching down, you brush the hair from his face and are horrified to see that his eyes are open. He stares unblinkingly, his vision covered in a white haze. He's clearly high and doesn't react to you at all. Suddenly, his lips moved and he tried to say something, but only a quiet wheeze came out of his mouth.