Bursts of Reality (Quick hit of fiction from Isaiah Os a.k.a. Harus)

Everyday the mornings on these urban streets seems the same. Uniform, routine rituals of the underpaid laborers litter the streets. Shambling off the wilted dreams of youth for pieces of metal and paper. I am awake on this street from the lack of sleep I am privy to. People pass practically lifeless by me without real regard for anything. It is not without incident that I have discovered an after effect from these poor saps. I succumb in serene silence to their discarded hopes. Seeing their futures play out as they thought it would be; I feel the laughter, happiness, accomplishment, the general feeling of being complete. It was wonderful for the crashing waves of temporary bliss, but the more I took; the hollower I became.

I sun rose up as the street began to live again under the orange glow of daybreak. The emptiness of the morning denizens nearly gone. I panicked to find myself slip, fading from anything solid. No voice, no sound could come from me, nor could I hear any. In this despair, I turned to my home for sanctuary and there I was coming in down the steps. I was one of them, slaves to the routine. I tried in vain to stop myself and became a victim to those dreams discarded.