Reblogged from Afterwards:
Slumped against the cold brick of the station wall Darryl pulled the ragged hood of his coat over his head and twisted open the lid of the bottle of white lightning cider gripped between his legs. It fizzed invitingly as escaped snowflakes danced on the biting breeze and he took a deep drink watching the masses pass by.
“Funny lot aren’t they” he said passing the bottle to a dirty faced, fair haired man sat next to him.
He took a drink and passed the bottle back, yellow fingers taking a cigarette from a crumpled packet. He pulled from his pocket. “Fun to watch though” he said struggling to light it, eventually resorting to pulling his jacket over his head to provide protection from the wind. “So many of them yet all so very alone.”
Continue reading at Afterwards