Cold Is The Lonely Hunter

Somewhere in the snow, a man was running. John Kent could tell you this man was wearing boots and had moved in snow before. Some two hours ago, this man had past 10^th and Rural.  Mr. Kent could tell he was moving quickly because there was a sharp tilt to the impressions of the snow.

The man in the snow had drunk irradiated orange juice and it’s remains were left on the snow, spilling out from a 44 ounce plastic cup found at 10^th and Keystone. There was a receipt found close by that put the purchase at 8:45. Being that it was 9:13, Mr. Kent’s prey was close. He followed the swiftly tilting foot prints into Woodruff Place where they turned into a side street.

Mr. Kent walked down this street with trepidation. He hated his envy and hate, it weighed on him. From time to time, he cursed the citizens of this community. They had more and infuriatingly, they thought they had none. Their eyes were cast sky wards towards the 3%. They would fall down from time to time and Mr. Kent would realize they bleed and do all those other things that Shylock did. They were terrible enemies to have, one could never hate them to the full extent one might want.

Mr. Kent stopped some twenty feet from his quarry. Mr. Kent was all caught up and realizing that his riddle was now a potential felony if he pursued. He took one last good look at the hunted one. The hunted was a teenage boy; white but painted red by the blood in his cheeks. He’s under dressed but the boots are indeed up to snuff for the weather. It all smacks of that flavor of dumb that might give the boy inspiration for good coming of age stories later. He’s considerably slower now and is obviously walking to the next house over.

Mr. Kent keeps on as to turn would be suspicious. As the teenager climbs the steps of his house, Mr. Kent spies one last time out of the peripheral. Mr. Kent is walking towards the women’s prison. He wonders what’s after the door and what’s after, the entry way. One can only know so much and this is a trivial mystery, but the story is not complete. It never will be for Mr. Kent.