The Long Walk to Nowhere

Mickey’s got a busted shoe, a half-smoked cigarette, and a belly full of nothing. The streetlights flicker like bad memories, and the asphalt sweats from the day’s heat. He walks because there’s nowhere to go, past the liquor store where Sal won’t serve him, past the diner where he used to know the waitress, past the bus stop where he once almost left this city behind.

A cop slows, eyes him, keeps rolling. Not worth the trouble.

Mickey laughs to himself, coughs up something dark, and keeps walking.

Tomorrow’s another maybe.