† —— inauseate a loss of faith ,
〈 / / : three am. quiet streets, darkened sidewalks, and the moon was barely searching for its source of lightㅡ the poor gem hid behind stubborn clouds. the streetlamps occasionally flickered, creating a momentary fright. without fail, it startled black cats who has made the streets their home. lonely souls like himself found comfort in the late hours of morning. to his ears, the signature bass line to billie jean filters in the diner. it plays hauntinglyㅡ just like the untimely death of the artist. he brought the white mug to his lips, taking short breaths before a single sipㅡ black coffee with two sugars heating his throat. he picked up on the distant curses and heavy exhales from the chubby waitress prancing from table to counter, ‘cause the kid was not her son.’
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