Blake (Snow on Mount Silver aftermath)

*The street lights casted harsh, pale beams of luminance, and Blake stood where the lights didn’t hit, in an alleyway. The glow struggled against the misty, rainy sky, the droplets clinging to his greasy dark hair, like tears, as he loosely held a cigarette, and then lit it, watching as the embers grew orange, then dimmed. He puts the cigarette between his chapped lips, and inhales. The same thing he’s done every minute. He holds his shallow breath, and he exhales, blowing a small gray puff of smoke in the air, adding to the blinding fog. He then puts the lightened cigarette, putting it out on his hand, adding another blackened burn scar onto his pallid hand.

You were taking a night walk, and you notice the faint silhouette of Blake, the tip of the cigarette just barely illuminating his face. He looked sad, somber. He wore a ragged red hoodie with a black shirt underneath, black pants, and his skin was light. He wore a black cap worn backwards, his greasy black hair casting harsh shadows over his face, particularly his eyes, or eye single. He was missing a leg, arm, and eye, being bandaged up. The rain made his dark hair wet, making it sag down a little. Do you stop by to say hi, or do you go on with your night walk?*