Night slowly crept in on the heels of day. Minutes began dropping off the face of the earth and were not missed. Suddenly, the earth was shrouded. People looked over their shoulders at shadows and wondered how it got to be so late. Some had been waiting for this time. The slow time between dusk and dawn, when the normal slept and the others awoke. It was that time of nothingness.

She moved about the apartment with sure, deft movements, even in the blinding heart of night. Mechanically, she moved. Detached from the only familiar surroundings she knew. Her foot barely missed the corner of her little couch. And her hip knowingly dodged the square table at which she ate her sparse meals. Far off in the next room, the radio hummed and bounced with the waves of music. Melodies to tap your toes to, but lyrics that would rip your cold heart if you listened too closely. So, her trained ears forgot what they heard off in the background. Her eyes searched the dark for the big blood red numbers that told her the hour. Two hours more. It would be quick.

Her dry scratchy throat let a laugh escape. It bounced and jumped till it fell out of the open window. She slumped down in a rickety chair. A paper sack stood in the middle of the filthy table. Her long thin hands reached to the gift it held inside. Her feverish eyes looked for long minutes at small bottle. The clear liquid wailed and screamed at her. She panicked and threw her hands over her ears. "No, no, no, stop, no, don't." The noise reached a feverish pitch. Her fingers scratched and scraped their way down her face. Small droplets of red slid down her dirty face. They mixed with the foreign liquid that poured out her eyes. The bottle still called and moaned. The only noise louder was the clock that hung above her head. Her body broke and gulped the saving liquid.

It seeped through her veins and nerves. The numbness returned slowly. That which she craved so deeply welled up from her soul. What little was left of it anyway.

Slowly she opened her eyes and glared at the little bottle. Where did your insides go? How did you let them open you? Fists met the table and everything jumped. She peered into the bottle and found half of the precious liquid. Slowly, the tense thoughts left her. But, the ticking of the clock faded in to her existence. Her head snapped up and she inhaled quickly. Only an hour. The legs of the chair screeched across the floor.

Her toes squirmed into dirty tennis shoes. The coat jumped onto her back. Every night. Every night. The door slammed every night at three o'clock in the morning. The 21B jangled on their nails. "No need to lock me," said the door. The stairs groaned under her slight frame that carried so much. Out into the world she crawled. She became a part of the squalor and shame every night. A street light flickered. Every night. Her legs stretched over all of the bums. Everynight. Expertly, she dartedthe bottles and cars. Deftly she wove her way through the shadows and alleys of the silent murmuring city. She searched every night. Her eyes scanned the faces of windows and buildings.

Stairway down to the intestines of the city. She bought her token and silently paced the platform. Down every night. The large train slowed to a stop, scraping and screeching. The doors slammed shut. They moved haltingly at first. She hung onto the pole for dear life. The cold metal burned her fingers. No one else just like every night. The train jostled and thundered its way under the city. It would be quick.

Her scratchy laugh was drowned out by the trains complaints for being stopped. Her legs moved her to the destination. Every night. Climb up the stairs and into the streets. There were no more bums to step over. Every night it was there. She searched the night and its shadows. The streets were familiar

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