Life and Death
In the night, a man clad in black made his way swiftly through the darkness. Pale gray eyes looked up to the sky, noting the promise of rain. He stuck to the sidewalks of downtown Boston, avoiding the orange glow of the streetlights like the plague. Between the weary denizens of the city he weaved, careful to keep his hands in the pockets of his long, black coat. To the people, he was nothing more than a shadow, a shivering breeze, or a chill in the night. How strange it was, he thought, that they go on so unaware of the darkness around them. With a smirk on his pale face, he pressed on.
Only the truly nocturnal meandered about at that time of night, so when the man turned a corner and found himself alone, he was not surprised. Continuing down the sidewalk with silent footfalls, his mind was utterly blank.
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