Alone in a Crowd

The crackle of voices drowned his internal thoughts. Struggling against a sea of white noise his concentration barely stayed afloat, while he waited for his ideas to break the surface and gasp for air. The TV flickered; a light in the window of an otherwise unlit home. His attention was snared. As everyone’s eyes glanced at the TV, he was grateful for the closed captioning. The bar was crowded. Mental notes were made of the lively people in contrast to the bar stool corpses. He knew why he was here. The thought of the numbing silence that existed in his cramped apartment shoved him into the onyx night. He searched for noise. He sought conversation, yet he talked to no one. Why not talk to one of the animated people. Surely they had something he wanted to hear. Shouldn’t a zombie make a fast friend? His jaw stayed locked. Tried as he did to unfreeze the old mansion’s rusty gates, nothing was getting out. Not emotions, not whimpers, not words could grind through his teeth. Maybe he just needed another drink. Liquor had always oiled his tongue before, why not now? The girls to his right need to shut up! They have been prattling about public health care policy for the last half hour. No wait, let them gab! At least they seem to pierce the audible pudding around him. He was trying to trudge his way through a muddy mumble of a vowel movement, but he just kept sinking. He thinks he could make millions by harnessing this endless banter into noise for an encryption algorithm. Everything was blending together, the noise blurred into an absence of sounds. Was this not what he tried to abandon just a few hours earlier? It was 1 am, he’d been here since 6 pm. Bleary eyed he cracked his neck. The crystal tumbled bounced before it exploded on the floor. Finally something brought the chatter to a halt. Shattering glass is a perfect exclamation point on the end of worthless sentence. He took solace in knowing that he was in control of the noise around him, even if only for moments. A quick glance to his left, to the right, back over his shoulder was taken. He had to go. The bouncer would be around him soon if he didn’t. Perhaps they know why he threw the glass on the floor. Pulse quickened, he slipped out the door and darted down the street. The tickle of mischief floated him in the in. He knows the bouncers aren’t coming, they don’t care and they don’t purse, but the excitement always follows. He grimaces at the triviality of his actions and the thought of not being chased. He slows his pace. As the snow crunches under his boots he tells himself he had to break the glass. It was the only way to create a noise that would stop the noise. Now that it was done, here he was, walking home in the quiet morning. Everything was muffled but the snow. A white crystal blanket that refused to bend to his will. Wrapping his muffler around his neck and half way up his face he continued to head home. He peaked into open windows hoping for a glimpse of anything. The boredom that birthed him into bars open arms was now beckoning him home. Smiling he thinks about being cocooned in his quiet château, trying to sleep and yet waiting for the morning. It’s a feeling that he usually dreads and welcomes, but always has. He needs to get home. His last few shots are scrambling his grey matter. How such a simple task could be so difficult staggered him? The thought surmounted him as he grappled the urge to sit. Luckily there are only a few more blocks. At the edge of the block he becomes distracted by the traffic light reflecting eerily on the freshly fallen precipitation. He waits and watches until the red light triggered urgency, he walked on. At last he is home. Sloppily he strips off his clothes and slides into his bed. Yet another day, Yet another night.