After the New Year
An attendant wakes him. We're closing in five minutes, she says. He gets up to leave. The guards make their way towards the door. Quietly, they usher people before them. They hold walkie talkies to their mouths. The shadows in the painting stretch across the floor.

Outside, he feels a chill. Wind ripples across the river. He walks down the thill and crosses the tracks, stepping gingerly over each rail. He stands by its banks and stares down the length of the river towards the city, and then back up to where it runs from its source. He digs in his pocket and pull out his keys. He feeds them one by one to the water. He takes off his shoes and aligns them beside him. He takes off his coat and arranges it on top of his shoes. Then he sits and watches the river and waits for night to come.