The night drifts through me.
Echoes in a dark lobby:
"Yes, the pain will make you want to give up before the end. And yeah, there will be those people, namely the broads, who will try and drag you down with their weight all the while. And you will hate everything you've ever loved, and you will believe you've all but disappeared and disappointed, and you'll want to destroy everything you've fought for before it's complete, but you won't, and one day you'll make it."
"How can you believe this? How can I believe you? I'm just this fucking kid working the night shift and you're a stranger . . ."
"Because you have that look in your eye that tells me you don't plan on living if it isn't your way. You're standing here with me, and you wouldn't be here if you didn't want to."
The night drifts through me.
It is quiet.