Walking Man

I heard a ticking. Like water falling down. Like water falling down a drainpipe. Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick. I wasn't sure if it was water or the workings of some incessant machine. But it seemed to be getting louder. And then I realized it wasn't getting louder, it was being joined by another sound. And that sound was footsteps.

Step step step step tick tick tick tick step step step step tick tick tick tick.

The street lamps went out. Standing on my stoop smoking a cigarette I could feel someone, hear someone, coming down the alleyway between my building and the one next to me. I sucked on my dry three-week-old cigarette. I tried to suppress my cough though no one was around to hear it. No one, that is, but the walking man.

And the I saw my friend emerge, a bag of food in his hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. I tried to explain it to him. He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow and went inside. And when I saw the door shut I hacked a fume of cancerous smoke.

I looked below me to the Christmas light-encrusted bushes, and spat a long thick drool. I inhaled one last deep breath and exhaled, not quite sure where the smoke was ending and my own breath was beginning.