The scene surrounding him only confirmed the loneliness he felt in his heart. He stood on an island in the middle of a dense traffic fairway. No one stopped to ask him why he was there or if he needed help. He had searched the faces of those behind the wheel and the passengers. They all seemed to look through him with mild disinterest. At random the cars either zipped by speedily or crawled along slowly, none turning aside to offer him assistance.
This was the world he lived in; one of suspicion, of busyness, people living all for self. The bitterness within him grew aggressively, churning up an acid in his belly. The loneliness pounded in his chest and he hurt with the ache. Anger began to wrap itself around the pain. Reaching into his pocket for the gun he felt something beside it, paper? Pulling it out he could see it was some kind of news clipping. He unfolded it to read. Taking in the headline he didn’t even notice his own tears until they started dripping onto the print causing the ink to smear. The story details didn’t matter. The headline was all he needed.