Omega

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They’re coming for me , he thought, as he hurried down the sidewalk. The wind cut straight through him like a razor as it whipped through the space between the buildings and tore leaves from the trees that protruded from the sidewalk planters. Downtown Minneapolis is somehow far colder than Dante’s last layer of hell , he thought as he avoided a steady stream of men in suits. All the worse to know it’s coming to an end soon . The crisp smell of fall permeated the ebb and flow of exhaust fumes from passing cars. He huddled tighter in his coat and pushed his hands in his pockets, stretching the material as he did so.

Downtown was bustling but not too busy. Though you couldn’t tell it by the dearth of sunlight, it was afternoon. The lunch rush had subsided and rush hour had yet to begin, so he was able to keep his route without worrying about fighting his way through the crowd. He passed a cafe that extended onto the sidewalk, only a table or two occupied. His hand ran over the cold metal rail that separated the empty tables from traffic passing by. As he caressed it, he felt a pause, a reluctance to go. In summer, on weekends, every table would be full, with a line of people extending out the door, waiting to be seated. It was a good place; he’d eaten there a time or two himself and enjoyed it. He lingered now, each step hesitant, a slow drag, as though the sidewalk were holding him back from the inevitable. Here, there—either way, they’re coming . If only I had more time , he thought.

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