After he looked at the night tram schedule, a A4 piece of paper glued to a pole that must have been a street lamp, a healthier looking bum gave him a weird look. He looked back and scowled. It turned in to a small staring contest. F. wondered if the stare down was an act of bum aggression and just like that in a split second he felt his pants were a bit low for him to be effectively fighting. He pulled his pants up shamelessly. It’s good to pay attention to details he confirmed himself. The tram came and once more before door closed them off in separate cars, they looked at each other and simultaneously entered. F. saw another bum on the tram and exchanged scowling looks with him also after he felt the other man initiated it. What was this? A some kind of bum conspiracy? He settled down and turned on his ipod instantly forgetting about bums...
Then an old song carried him to completely different plane of thoughts... He reached an interesting conclusion about something he has been thinking about lately. The civil life has just too tasteless of days for him, after 6 years of sleepless nights. He suddenly felt he transitioned from un to ordinary and it saddened him to think he now belonged to the day shifters' world. He missed the empty streets and perpetual street lamp filled sky. He could not trust or know anyone but his old comrades. What he missed the most were the inner battles and their consequences. Everything looked more real, easily quantifiable and visibly tangible...Only then he would feel happily different; only then he felt alive...
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