The rain has just begun, it smells of wet asphalt. Cars circle the lot, predatory. Laughter dodges the raindrops and arrives with a tone of desperation. I sit silent, gazing through the spattered windshield and the parted curtain.
Yellow light pours through a lone window three stories up.
I see half of a doorway, half of a picture, half of a lamp. Around the car people pass in clusters and converse in bursts. Everyone heading somewhere, but I m just sitting. I feel alone. The man in the kiosk is long haired and bearded.