it was another late night in the parking lot. snow sprinkled all around him, and he clutched at himself for warmth. beyond, past, and through the buildings, the darkness elongated forever. somehow he had convinced himself that it was going to be a short jaunt.
he had to be nearing the end, he figured. but only literally, though; metaphor is powerless. and to be frank, he thought of himself as probably being more in the middle of things right now.
something compelled him to turn around. behind him was a car, idling in a different, nearby parking lot. a tall, young-looking man was standing next to the car, holding something small at about chest level. the headlights were on.
"there will be worse times than this," he yelled at the man. his voice, suddenly lost, dropped to a mere shout. "there have been before." his words echoed back to him, and the voice sounded so unlike his own. for a moment, he wasn’t sure if the man had shouted back, or why; was he mocking him? agreeing with him?
he was all alone. he didn’t know if that was true.