Solitude

I looked out the window. In the darkness of my room, I looked out the window. I eyed the calmly swaying already red maple outside. I sat on my bed in my solitude, wondering why my roommate hasn't returned yet. I checked the clutter around his bed and noticed his knapsack wasn't there. He must be staying over at a friend's house,  I don't know. All I know is that this isn't unusual. The only thing unusual about tonight is this: I finally turned off all the lights even if Josh isn't here yet.

I stood up to open the window ever so slightly to let in a little winter breeze. The old stove heater still works too well. I hear the ghostly cacophony of echoing footsteps outside the door and I strain to decode the owner of the signature footstep. And then I didn't have to. The footsteps entered the room next to mine and I know where Evgeny just came from. from the nightly mark down of meat at Gourmet City. So he's back.

And then total silence again. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. One in the morning. Saturday already. No wonder why it's so quiet. I'm guessing most of the guys are out clubbing somewhere probably in Roppongi. Or Shibuya. Or heck Shinjuku. In the cold.