Dawn in the City

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Dawn in the City

Spiders gradually cover the room with fine webs while the man in bed recovers from drinking.
Birds perched on trees sprouting from the sidewalks are singing, perhaps because it’s early or because they’re hungry or just for the hell of it.
Ants start their routine.
It was a bad night and he knew it. He always knew that it would be.
The incessant patter of drops on the zinc gutter doesn’t wake him. Rain in August is strange yet inevitable, as everything had been that night.
A strong wind lashes against the window and, abruptly, the man wakes up. His throat is dry and his nostrils plugged. He rises quickly. The world spins and, losing his balance, the man falls, striking his forehead against the nightstand. Now he is sprawled on the floor and, at nearly the same rate the water falls in the gutter, he bleeds drip by drip.
The sun rises and the man is still there, as motionless as everything else in the room, except for the ants searching for food. Just hope that someone finds my body.

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