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Simultaneously fast and slow, time passed. He stared vacantly at the wall of glass, people scrambling past unknowingly being watched. Occasionally someone would look through the glass, disturbed slightly by his vacant stare before rushing forward and instantly forgetting he ever existed.

His pen would scratch across the pages, recording stream of consciousness thoughts, vignettes and words clawed from his head. Finally, he stood and left; slowly dragging his feet, he stumbled on a chair leg. All too often, he tried to put his body somewhere that was already taken.

The green man, who followed him everywhere, along with the red man, who would chase the green one away, flashed in front of him. Obsessively he stepped on the white lines, oblivious to stares. Words and daydreams flickered through his mind. Sporadic images would jar him back to path he wandered down, sometimes he would be brought back by other people, unhappy at being walked into.

Tempted by back alleys, each with their own hidden places; each one promising secrets and treasures, he lost himself in the network of streets. Destination was never important, more often than not he lost himself. Eventually he would get to where he wanted. A place that haunted his dreams. Tall buildings trapped the wind, that would pull at his clothes. Clouds would hide all light, and for a second he would spin under twisting shadows.

When do days end?

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