As I walked up the sidewalk to stumble into work only a miraculous ten minutes late, I struggled to attach to myself the thick mask of veiled asceticism and bullshit required to protect the tissue paper soul beneath. A man wondered in front of me with a sticker announcing his status as VISITOR 12 in sloppy sharpie. He stopped in my path, and stared forward, his eyes focused on nothing.

"Putting my own mother into rehab was the hardest thing I ever had to do," the man announced, voice raised, also at nothing. I realized that the man had come out from the second wing ******** ***** that is connected to the facility to which I am employeed. I felt obligated to respond and the only thing that seemed pertinant to say was, "I'm sorry."

I doubt that I meant it, though I suppose in my own narcissistic suffering some shred of neglected empathy might have felt something, if only disconnected from myself. He stopped, nodded for a moment, and walked into the parking lot. I doubt that he cared if I meant it, only looking to be acknowledged during his own trial. I continued walking, pushed my key fob against the sensor,�and opened the door, mask tightly attached.

"But she needed it!" The man yelled, who knows to. For whatever reason, I laughed.

"On the day we fell from heaven, time came to a halt for us...it remains unchanged, like the still of the night. We demons await the master's words, his proclamation of a new beginning..." That's what a demon I met earlier told me, but I have no clue what it means.� ����

Destroy Once Done