cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air slow and steady like time was waiting for him to catch up
with weathered leather jacket and rough unshaven jaw bright eyes that couldn't have been more distant than ever he's been gone since
bitter resentment blind nostalgia for the old gal he used to have she didn't know commitments and conferences kept her away her future secured with a pinch of surety like a caterpillar in aΒ Β cocoon ready to bat its wings away while he had his walking around aimlessly struggling to find permanence in anything
convinced himself that he was free and footloose but satisfaction all short-lived mostly found late at night in rundown motels and crowded bars
it's hard to keep your eyes open when missed opportunities close in on you he's drowning in a sea of disappointment or was it the liquor?
everyone calls him No-Hope and he thinks so too but still he wouldn't let go and be carried away in the current like the rest of the faceless, countless No-Hopes like him