He sat on his own all of the time, drinking whatever money he could rustle from his pocket
A bottle of wine for the most part, never really seemed to bother him what others thought
You see this, for him, had always been the sort of life he had sought
Since the very beginning
Drank from a fishbowl glass while birds would wing their way by, chirping to their hearts content, continuously trying to sing
A heap of a man with just one plan, watch the world walk on by, his arguably this town’s most sophisticated pair of eyes, but neither did he ever feel any real need to pry
Not too many friends, owing to the fact that he never turned out to be satisfied when people only ever seemed to want to settle on just one trend
The wine would always taste fine, nothing special but just enough to quell the appetite
Frights were few and far between but this particular morning it came at him like a sandstorm, something he couldn’t help
Suddenly, an altogether mind-blowing yelp out of an elderly lady, clipped by a car while trying her damnedest in making her way from SPAR
Shopping complete but now all she’d been left to do was hobble about the place, find her false teeth and somehow fix her face
The posh driver of the Benz did nothing but moan, cigar in hand, he came at her, finger-pointed with the most almighty and irritating tone