This man went into the town. He didn’t meet anyone there and nobody said hello to him. One man asked him for change. Lot’s of women pulled the collars of their jackets tightly around their necks. If they didn’t have collars, they scowled into the drizzle. It was Monday when this happened. And the man continued walking and, as he did he noticed that there were these small flies made of light zipping into peoples bodies and out the other side. Sometimes they went into their heads and out the other side. And the man looked closer. The people, it seemed, did not know that the flies were there. It looked like that they were attacked the people. The man wondered if he should do something but then he noticed something else. One woman walked over a drain in the street and a dark, ghostly shape slithered out of it and snatched at the woman. The woman grabbed onto her collar and seemed to frown heavily. The hand snapped back with something in its grasp, though the man could not tell what. The man wondered if he should do something and, moreover, wondered why these creatures were not attacking him.
* * *
He sat in the waiting room. He could not remember why he was there. His body had carried him here. There was a date and time and address written down on a piece of paper. So here he was, confused and flicking through a magazine and not really reading it. There was a small elderly lady and a large African man. The elderly woman had her hands folded and seemed to be talking to herself. The large African man was looking at his phone and humming. In the mid distance, he saw small, brilliant specks darting around in front of his eyes in, what looked like, a coordinated manner. The specks took on greater detail the more he looked at them. He felt a hand in his trouser pocket. He couldn’t move. The chair he was sat on rose into the air. The magazine began to feel like jelly. He was carried over the heads of the elderly woman talking to herself and the large African man humming to his phone. They did not notice him. Past the receptionists and out into the street. Higher and higher into the air on the waiting room chair. He dropped the jelly magazine in the cold breeze. It landed on a dog. The town became smaller and smaller beneath him. His pockets were a frenzy of knuckles and fingers. Two hands grabbed his ankles and held him upside down. Out plopped his cheap phone, then his keys, his dirty hanky and, finally, his wallet.
* * *
A man sat in the street watching another man watching people. The man followed a women who was walking across a road. When the truck hit him, he was in the middle of calling out to her. Nobody heard what it was he had said though.