Grim vertical slashes opened up on my chest as light, polluted and filtered by the cheap excuses for blinds that hung in the window, made a feeble attempt to claim me. The ceiling fan overhead spun slowly, a treble-pitched whining hum its protest against the function to which it had been assigned in life

I could empathize. I often protested against the functions I had to perform in life.

Large fingers on large hands rose up, rubbing the detritus of another night's unconscious sprawling from my face; skin rubbery except where it was dried and hardened and shot through with hairline cracks, harbingers of wrinkles I'd be entirely too fortunate to live long enough to watch blossom and steal away another precious emblem and replace it with memories and pain. I pushed myself to my feet; felt the mattress buckle in a threatening manner and the springs groan their sordid tales of abuse.

Again, I could empathize.

Dragging myself to my full height, I lurched over to the poorly hung mirror on the pale green wall. What the hell had the landlord been thinking, choosing that color I will likely never know. I regarded my distortion in the glass. Bloodshot and murky; and that was just the eyes. The stale scent of failure hung around this whole building, its fingers slipping through every crack, every chink in the armor of callousness and self-preservation you had to erect to get by day to day; caressing the skin with hot, fevered strokes, invading the nostrils that flared in a ritualistic and ultimately futile attempt to repel an invader who'd long ago co-rented.

I wish I couldn't empathize with that one.

One hand clamped down on a suitcase handle too small to comfortably fit my fingers and I lifted it. I tossed some change and a Jackson on the dresser for what passed for the maid service here, then opened the door.

Spikes of pure pain blinded me a moment, as the sun, filtered now only by the omnipresent haze over the city, led a surprise invasion via my over-dry eyes. Piss-poor day for it, too; I may have even staggered a moment before regaining what passed for my composure. A short walk to the shared facilities, and I stripped down, the reek of failure giving way to a far more human stench, stale sweat, salt and cheap booze rolled off my body in waves. The water - too erratic to be dependably cold or hot, spattered off me at first, as if it, too, was casting me out.

Soap, water and good firm scrubbing. Slowly the effluvium I stewed in was sluiced away, to circle around the drain set in the tile floor, and my despair was masked by the scent of good strong soap. The hair was soaked, slicked back, and a pair of scissors in dire need of replacing were removed. What followed could not be called a haircut by any reputable practictioner of the barber's trade, but it ensured nothing would hang down in front of my eyes.
Water off, towel. Suitcase opened, clean outfit pulled on one piece at a time, the fabric resisting all the way, like a classy dame forced to travel in the company of a low-town thug 'for her protection'.

Eventually, all the angles are covered, though I probably still bear too close a resemblance to a gorilla in a suit than anything that might be called 'gentleman'.

Stop back to drop off something at the flop. Then outside - where the sun has hidden itself and now nasty blattering rain falls. Nobody escapes it; a quiet curse under my breath, and I begin to walk. No umbrella; better my hands stay free anyway, and the rain, for all the grit that would make any fool who looked up into it quickly flinch and wipe at their face; still feels better than morning's sour lashes had.

Not many would recognize me nowadays, and that's the way I like it. Too much ambition, too much desperation. The city strangled its young and imprisoned its elders. Too many people - he couldn't call them friends; no friends here, that sort of thing got you dead right quick - too many people though, ended up in pine boxes ... or pauper's lane.

Not again. Let someone else get their fool head shot being the hero. This city didn't want to be rescued, actively resented those foolish enough to try.

And as much as I hate it, I am beginning to empathize with that, too.