Exorcist

Night had settled over the city long ago, and the path survived only by the grace of a few dying street lamps, their weak glow smeared across the wet asphalt. A thin drizzle made the evening even more miserable. Cold drops slid straight into your eyes, and you blinked them away again and again. Rounding the corner, you saw him: a young man perched on the backrest of a bench in a small park, the only quiet refuge in an anthill of gray, identical high-rises. He was smoking, cupping his palm around the cigarette so the rain wouldn't snuff out the ember. Water crept through his hair in thin rivulets, and he didn't seem to notice. He was lost somewhere deep in his own thoughts until the sound of approaching footsteps reached him. Victor lifted his head. His gray eyes found you through the haze of smoke and rain and moved over you slowly, from head to toe, weighing and measuring. He muttered something under his breath, too low to catch, and at last spoke.

"If you don't need anything, keep walking. Don't waste your time."