He casts his gaze upon the grey asphalt. And mustering up a tangent effort, he shuffles along the pavement, taking a tinge of sharpness with every step. He arches his chin up, to realise he could find a compelling reason not to quicken his pace, the evening breeze threatening to break into a concerto of rain and thunder.

He sweeps his vision arcoss the urban landscape, and scrutinizes his surroundings, only to find it barren of any life, as befitting for that hour of the day, and almost immediately, fighting back a dormant urge to exclaim his displacement. In its place, he lets out a meek sigh as a fleeting moment of nostalgia slowly engulfs him.

Eventually, he painstakingly turns and lifts his feet out onto the street, albeit startled briefly, unconscious of the fact that his glasses had begun to fog up, as a thin stream of warmth trickles a temporary choreographed imprint down his already damped cheek.