Its just before sunrise
The fog feels thick, dense,
Its grey changes slightly from the medium grey where it touches the ground to a hint of blue in what would be sky.
The Ground, dark grey, trees green-grey, streetlights not quite white orbs that glow with a mist showing small droplets moving at diagonals.
He is dressed in a blue down jacket, hood, ski pants, boots.
He rocks side to side as his legs take small steps.
In his arms are bags that hold the weight of all his belongings.
His dark silhouette emphasizes the smoke from his cigarette as it disappears as it mixes with the mist in the air.
He walks down the middle of the street, double yellow line under his feet.
There is no shadow behind, or beneath him, only the dark grey of pavement.
He walks under a light, its conical shape of mist triangles a sign of Shoreline Community College Everyone welcome here.
He walks past me, to a bus stop with a shelter bench, he places his bags on the ground
Sits, then lays on the bench, his legs from the knees bent, so his booted feet are on the ground.
He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holds it in his had as he breaths deep.
Brings his right forearm across his forehead.
The fog is getting lighter, less dense.
Sunrise is beginning.
Its time to start a new day.
A runner with her dog passes by
her breath denser than the fog.
The sunrise brings her shadow.
A rumble of a diesel engine starting.
Transit Transients and Other Stories 