The Nightwatcher

Finally, his shift was over. After 12 long hours he stepped out of his booth ready to lock and leave. While he was eager to return home, he hesitated, his gloved hand hovering over the door’s handle while he thought about what he would do next. It was one of those days where the weather was doing its magical dance. Slowly and gingerly snowflakes made their way from the sky, piling on his shoulders. Little smoke clouds danced from his lips with each breath he took. It did not feel so cold that it hurt his bones; it was just the right amount of comfortably chill. With his children studying abroad and no partner in his life, no one would be greeting him home.  His apartment would be quiet and the TV with its stale blue light and angry news hosts promised no pleasure. But the city with its endless energy was a lover who never failed. This was where the real entertainment was, dozens of languages per block, thousands of people all with their different stories. The answer was obvious. He started to walk and felt at peace.