He'd felt this before.
Another day, perhaps, or another road. Almost certainly a different person.
How many times though?
The road stretched on like it was suspended over an endless pool of stars, warping and bending to keep him farther from his destination. Was the ground, too, taunting him?
This was a city of dread and paranoia.
He met the stare the same way he always did. A nervous hand raised in a half-hearted greeting and an angry hand clenched tight to the handle of his briefcase. No eye contact.
Never any eye contact.
He was turning into one of them and he knew it and dreaded the day when he'd find himself walking down the cracked sidewalk with a bent back and cocked glance, picking apart... anyone. Anyone for whatever little difference, trying to scrutinize a cause no matter how harmless.
How many people had this place chewed up, and how long till the damnable cycle would be broken?