087: gone

In the dim glow of the streetlights, he stood a shadow in the torrent. At any moment, he looked as though he'd drop to his knees, just like in the old black-and-white films where the hero is only moments from tear-streaked blasphemy, echoing into the silent city night.

Here, the city wasn't silent.

Here, the shadow just started skyward, out of place in a world not meant for motion pictures. At any given moment, he could slump over onto the pavement, staring skyward with unblinking eyes filled with rainwater and saline.

And that's when the truck hit.