The Quitter

He stood alone, crying. His shadow was his only companion, it served no purpose other than to mock his very existence. Abandoned and scared, he found his way to the very edge of the cliff and looked down, as the moon cast his shadow across the bustling city below. For that instant, and only in that moment, his problems were as big as the city itself. It was those specs of creation below for which he felt utter misery and ill contempt. False happiness, a way of life for them. They sought nothing more than to pleasure themselves with meaningless things, objects that masked the sadness lying only below the surface. The quietness of this place was enormous save for a few far off insects chirping. The air was moist and cold; smells of poison and smog raised up from below, on their way to continue covering the night sky. Remembering times long past when the air was pure and crisp only brought more sadness. Soon a single tear rolled down his cheek, and the urge to scream tightened in his heart, held back by more powerful feelings.

His eyes scanning across the entire scene with the kind of anger that burned a hole in is stomach. He raged out with arms high! He shook a fist, then two. He swore that from this night on he would be different; would care for his mother earth. Would give everything that he could and so much more! Swore that he was done feeding off his only home. Swore to give something back this time and that it was all about to change; that he was not a quitter, swore to never give up.

His breath began to slow, slow enough to realize that for the first time in his life he felt alive. Alive for only a moment...

Stepping back down to his car, he lit a cigarette, got in and drove off. Moments later he was throwing the butt of his cigarette, right out the window of his car. It flew off from his flick like a shooting star. Landing is sparked and bounced on the city streets. He was not a quitter after all.