9

The next morning

I sat at my desk sipping coffee.

My boss walked past without a glance.

My coworkers spoke in hushed voices about deadlines,

Their weekends,

Their insignificant lives.

The news played on the office TV.

"A man was found dead late last night near 7th Avenue.

Police suspect a mugging gone wrong.

No leads yet."

That was it.

A life reduced to a two-sentence report.

No name.

No real concern.

Just another statistic

Another fleeting moment in a city that never stops moving.

I swallowed my coffee.

It tasted the same as always.

Outside people rushed by, their lives unchanged.

The man I killed was already forgotten.

I wasn't.

My fingers tapped against my desk.

The hunger hadn’t left.

If anything, it had grown.

Because now I understood.

The world doesn’t stop for the dead.

And that meant

I could keep going.

Thank-you

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