Citizen!

He woke up.
Got up.
Did his exercises.

Washed his face. Shaved. Brushed his teeth.
And so on.

Breakfast. Coffee. First cigarette.

Got dressed. Shut the door. Went downstairs.
And so on.

To the right — a newspaper kiosk.
To the left, across the street — the tram stop.

And then —
Stepping out of the dim stairwell, he froze.

Something is wrong!!!
The thought rolled over him, burning, buckling his legs, hopelessly twisting the fingers of his empty hands.
Something is wrong. Wrong!!

His body slowly moved toward the stop.

How am I living like this? How did it come to this?! Why…
The thoughts churned like hot porridge.
Where did I go astray? When…

Something black slammed heavily into his thigh.

That thing could crush you.

Behind the glare of a windshield, a mouth gaped open without a sound.

Right by my own house… that’s unfair… What’s happening to me?

“Citizen!"
The familiar format squeezed its way into his mind.
A man at the newspaper kiosk was waving at him insistently.

Who is that? The face looks familiar… I’ve seen him somewhere… Of course! He always takes a newspaper after me!

And the veil fell from his eyes.

His ears instantly filled with the fresh sounds of a working city morning.
The asphalt, having stopped pretending to be someone’s skin — worn and spat upon — became, as always, nothing.

Just asphalt.

Leaning out of the kiosk window, the vendor’s gout-swollen hand, veins bulging, stabbed the air with relay-like persistence, holding out a neatly folded newspaper.
The approaching tram clanged and rattled.

I’ll make it!

He ran up. Grabbed it. Paid.
Ran across. Jumped on.

And so on.

Punched his ticket. Took his usual place by the window.

These fits of madness really do happen. See — and I didn’t believe it.

He unfolded the newspaper.

Something is wrong…
A frosty shiver tugged somewhere at the back of his head —
and vanished.

Forever.