A Changing of Purpose

The air smelt of evil and deceit and nicotine smoke glowing red from paper lanterns. People crowded all around and besides bumping shoulders everyone is alone lost in the isolation of their own selves. All faces are unseen, hiding beneath hats or hung toward the ground. The gloom is quite intoxicating; dreadfully so in fact. Ideas and philosophies dwindle into insignificance; what is purpose? Point of view twists and inverts. A carpet of money and newspapers litter the floor. In each booth, at each table, on each chair warped ideas and words, deals and schemes are exchanged. Everyone man for himself, no one notices anyone else because they're not looking for them. I notice a man in a suit and top hat sitting on a chair, somehow he seams more alone and separate then all the others. I'm drawn toward him like a boat down a stream. He has one leg crossed and is filing his fingernails. Without looking up he says "So, you're finally here Mr Black. Take a seat; much we have to talk about." I take a chair from a nearby table "I'm not Mr Black." I say sitting down. "So why sit down beside me?" The man queries, "Mr Black, there is a woman, one Ms Starlight. She has been watching for demons from her window." I pull my hood over my face, "I remember her as a child; she doesn't watch for demons, she dances and sings like a fairy. She wouldn't notice them let alone look for them." The man uncrossed his legs and started the finger nails of his other hand, "Very true, so why do you remember her Mr Black?" I wet my lips, "I know not." I didn't finish my sentence because I knew he already knew why. "What is her name?" the man asked "I won't say it." I replied. He stood up and turned "Then don't. Now come, we are already late." I followed him to a door in far wall. Once through the fresh air made my head spin and I felt my sense of purpose return like a wet dog. "Are you coming Mr Black?" beckoned the man. As we walked down the quiet street I felt in my pocket, the photo was still there.