The city was empty for Alexis: this was not new. Once, when he was new to this place, he had been just like them: he had stared at all the lights in wonder; been stunned by the roar of traffic; intimidated by the height of the buildings and the vastness of the horizon. But unlike them, the tourists; the sight-seers, he had grown bored. Bored of the subdued grey buildings towering above him and blocking his view of the sky. Bored of the noise, now a muted murmur in his ears. Bored of the lights, too bright at the edge of his vision.
It all meant nothing.
He laughed grimly at people's inability to live without such things. All the people who insisted upon decor and advertisements; on large buildings and expensive interiors. How sad that they would never be able to look past the colour of their fingernails and see what the world really was...
A technicolour mess.
Alexis wondered if she had sensed this bitterness inside him, if perhaps she had not wanted to get caught up in the inner torment that had plagued him for so long. He smiled: funny, when it was her kind that had made him this way: Ironic, when she might have been the cure.
Alexis walked until his feet hurt. Until the city around him was just a blur of grey, and the noise was more or less silence to his numbed ears. When his aching limbs would no longer let him avoid it, he crashed into his one bedroom apartment and fell into a restless sleep.