everyone wants something and everyone doesn't want to be alone. to be lonely. that ***** man with sad eyes sitting on the sidewalk, alone and in the rain. passing, passing, passing. passing time, passing people, passing lives. or maybe you're in your home, 500 floors up. still alone, but in luxury. that isolated woman with lonely eyes and red lips and faux fur and classy cigarettes. parent's never paid much attention. both live alone, wanting a crossing of paths with someone, anyone. different spectrum of societies, suicide to be seen together. it was raining, the young woman being into the alley by men. they wanted her money. greedy, greedy, greedy. she was the youngest of the family, her family living in more extravagant places than she. she'd never be missed until the money ran out. she would die, she knew she would, shivering in the rain as they ripped off her expensive coat, pulling her hair. somehow she felt okay, at least if they killed her she wouldn't be alone. there was only darkness between her and her death, streaks of lightning lighting the terror on her smudged face. the ***** man sitting along the wall could see the woman in the white coat, not even fighting for her life. he didn't understand that, almost angered. she had money, had everything. he had nothing, even less as he got up and splashed his way through the dark to grab one of the men by the throat. he was choking, coughing as he kicked him down and his partner ran off. they hadn't expected to be challenged. the woman was pleading, her coat in a puddle. she was taking off her jewelry, shoving it into the man's hand. he shook his head, seeing the loneliness in the eyes of the woman, her dark hair wet and frizzy. she didn't seem to understand as he merely placed her jewelry in her coat and wrapped it back around her shoulders, despite it being cold and wet. they were both already cold and wet. she was frazzled, perplexed, and finally she hugged the man, sobbing in tune with the rain. they went separate ways, the woman getting to her lonely warm penthouse and stripping out of her wet clothes. they lay all over the floor along and the she laid naked on the rug. she didn't want to move, shakily opening her cigarettes as she rolled on her back. the next afternoon she was back outside, tired and silent as she wandered back into the alley. she felt empty, staring at the place where she could have met her end. she ripped off her rings and her pearls, hitting the muddy puddles along the wall. and then she heard a voice along the wall, telling her it wasn't really wise to throw away expensive things. it was the same man, standing there in the same wet clothing and sad eyes. sad eyes and lonely eyes. she said it didn't matter if you were alone, and he said he was alone and it mattered since he had nothing. the woman with lonely eyes asked the man with sad eyes if he had something: a home, a wife, children, and he answered no each time. she took his hand, walking him to the end of the alley, saying he could choose to have something. he said he did want something, but didn't know what something even looked like. she said it was okay and they walked together into the elevator to the 500th floor where he found her clothes across the floor, glass shattered in the kitchen. it was a start of something, and he didn't care if it was ugly at first and lonely eyes became a little less lonely and sad eyes became a little less sad. the something he was looking for was in her and the life of not being lonely she was looking for was in him.
