The Dark Sky

The sky is dark, it is dark when he goes to bed and it is usually dark when he wakes up. Today he had a chance to see the real sun and it was good. The body needs vitamin D to survive and the sun is the best way to get it. He misses the sun, but he loves being a night owl. It is such a different life; just this walk is totally different. His walk to work, he usually sees no one, and if he does it is not a normal no one, it is a different no one. These people are either on the street because this part of the day the street is there home, or they are just like him, their pupils huge and round, going somewhere to do something.

He arrives at the door, big and heavy and red. The green trim needs to be painted again and the man at the door greets him with a smile and nothing else. He opens the door to a dark room, a big dark room, sectioned off but little half walls and a small stage with his work atop. He finds his way to his normal stool, and sits atop like it’s his job. Elbows on the edge and feet on the bottom rug, the bartender walks over and fills a glass by the tap. The golden liquid is allows for the nights work, it usually makes the work better, but only if it is not in excess, the liquid that is.

Next to him is a man doing the same thing he is, elbows on the bar, feet on the bottom run. They turn and see each other, and then they recognize each other. They know each other well, well enough to not know each other’s names. He has a lot of relationships like this one, but this friend is a good one. The other man talks, in a slow slurred gin-smelling voice. He asks the man for a favor, a small one that at that, but a very important one. He asked for a memory, the man asked him to give him something back that he had lost a long time ago, when he wore a younger man’s cloths. One he knew compete, but could not remember with out a little help. It was sad and it was sweet, and it was a small favor.

He nodded and agreed, this was not the first time this happened, and it wont be the last, this memory is important to him too. It brings him back to where he loves to be, and yes it was sad, but it was so so sweet as well. He could think of exactly what he was going to do, a quick nod in the direction of the man, and start his work, but only when it was time. He went back to his golden liquid only to find the bottom of his glass, and the bartender quickly noticed. A grab, a pure and back to what he remembered. This should be a quick one though, it is almost time.