He looked over the sparkling city skyline and smiled. The night was chilly and his breath mixed with the cigarette smoke left long trails.
He was on the balcony on a skyscraper, high enough to hear nothing of the noises far below, high enough to peacefully meditate on the distant building lights, those dream like apparitions. Lights meant life and life meant stories, and at least a few of them worth listening.
But tonight he was content, tonight he was at peace with not knowing and not wondering.
He observed his mind, waiting to see if it would come up with something to say. Nothing. Nothing at all.
He chugged his drink down, stubbed the cancer stick out and lit another. Still nothing.
Smiling into the night he continued gazing at the lights, glazed eyes reflecting, watching, observing.