The City

A Story by Ben M

Another thing as written by me

"You see, there are lots of colors. Lots of colors, everywhere all the time. But out here in the city, it's different. See, we tore away all the colors and we put up these boring slabs of concrete and business and commerce and all that corporate crap. But if you go far away, you'll find all the colors. And you'll cry."

I looked at his face. It was old and wrinkled, the skin loose and flabby. His eyes were wide and white. He was sitting on the steps to a big building that rose up high into the sky like a giant steel tree. His copper teeth shined in the sun and his hair was thin and sad.

"Okay," I managed to say. I felt awkward.

"Damn right, okay," he spat. "Where do you live kid?"

"Um." I didn't want to tell him where I lived.

"In the city?"

I nodded.

"Right, yeah. You ever been outta the city?"

I shook my head.

"See that sky up there?"

I looked up.

"No."

"No, no you don't. Skies are supposed to be big and blue and smiling. What do we have here? A f*****g smokescreen is what we goddamned have!"

I didn't have anything to say. I stood there and thought about how I wanted to leave. His eyes kept my feet glued to the ground.

"I grew up in the country. There wasn't noise like the city. The city has big, sharp noises. The city has noises that hurt. The country had all nice noises. It's the way things are supposed to be. There's not supposed to be a city. That's why the country sounds nice and the city sounds bad."

"I don't think the city sounds that bad."

"Oh, you wait," he said. A grin split his face.

"What?"

He coughed, and it sounded like death. It was thick and painful. I winced.

"The city's killing me, kid."

I frowned.

"Look, I better go." I turned and started walking.

"Hey. You gotta leave. You gotta get out of here. It's a death trap, it's a god damned death trap! Listen to me!"

I didn't turn around.