Greg woke up with a bad taste in his mouth, he really needed to stop drinking cheap scotch as it always left an awful taste in his mouth the next morning.

He vowed to himself he would buy higher quality scotch once he retired; after all it would not be too much longer.

He slowly got out of bed, his bones creaked and cracked with effort.

He wondered how he was still alive with the abuse he put his body through.

He lit a cigarette and went to the kitchen to grind some coffee beans. Spilling a couple beans on the counter he threw them in his mouth rather than back into the grinder replacing his taste with a bitter burnt coffee and tobacco, a lovely mix.

Grumbling aloud about the drizzle outside he sipped on his coffee while he contemplated awhile on what he should do before he finally took a quick cold shower and left his apartment.

“Hi Gump!” You look even more annoyed then you usually do. Grump mumbled a gruff sound of agreement as his only response to the boy.

In front of Greg was a boy who was a little too perceptive. Probably because he was the youngest of four, he had his hands full of groceries. John or Josh was it? He really could not remember. He often helped the single mother with odd maintenance needs at her apartment.

“Today must be your day off I never see you during the day, what are your plans? Are you Maybe going to watch the games? Plenty of open seats in the Arthur Ashe Stadium after the upsets. No one wants to watch the newbs; I think it’s the Semi Finals today. You ever going to get married? Mom says that any woman would love to marry you since you don’t talk…”

Greg mumbled a complaint under his breath to the boy’s bundle of questions and ruffled his hair roughly while walking past him.

“Hey, I’m already thirteen Grump, I’m not six anymore!” the boy yelled in protest to Greg’s already shrinking form as he went down the stairwell.

Greg didn’t mind the boy, but he never really liked small talk…or really any talk for that matter. The boy’s questions didn’t bother Greg, he had long accepted his lot in life. He will live and die the way he entered this life…alone. Swinging by the postage box he grabbed the only piece of mail while walking toward the dirty metro. Along the ride he opened the envelope to find a letter from the orphanage.

Reading it he skimmed through the pleasantries and found the reason for the letter, a request for money. They always needed more money.

Although he complained Greg never failed deliver. He once contemplated stopping after the headmaster died a couple decades ago, his funeral attended only by himself and the headmasters adopted daughter. He couldn’t remember the girls name but felt pretty confident it was Erica, he wondered what ended up becoming of her as he folded up the letter and left the station walking to a diner. Sitting down in worn out booth an old waiter nodded to him bringing him a cup of coffee without a word. A few minutes later a plate of sunny side up eggs with hash browns and sausages was placed before him. It was already lathered with a generous amount of Tabasco.

Tuning out the complaining nearby customer who “ordered first” he opened a random container of hot sauce before dousing the food again. Chewing slowly, he looked out the window at the deluge of people walking around.

Maybe if he stopped smoking, he wouldn’t need so much hot sauce to taste his food. Not that he would truly consider that. With an absentminded thought Greg wondered “Lungs or liver which one will lose out first?”

Greg lit up another cigarette leaving a twenty on the table, he heard a “have a good day Grump” before starting his long trek to a bar. Part way through his walk the drizzle picked up and wrongly timed droplet found itself extinguishing his addiction. Looking up he saw that a storm was fast approaching.

Cursing his luck, he walked into the first establishment that looked like they would serve alcohol. It was further into an ally and looked a little run down, hopefully it was empty and quiet.

He walked through the door and nearly cringed, loud music blared through the speakers, shouts of arguments and TV’s plastered across every flat surface bigger than a couple feet. People cheered and booed as different games played across the screens. The atmosphere was electric. He hated it.

Sitting down he was quickly greeted by an older bartender clearly not thrilled to be at work asking him what she can get him. He pointed at a random bottom shelf scotch and lifted two fingers.

“What are you deaf? What do you want? Do I look like an ASL instructor?” the women asked clearly annoyed at receiving instructions via hand signals.

Greg looked at her lips with a look of consternation before looking back at her eyes and nodded his head slowly and repeated the gesture offering a hesitant half smile as if hoping his message would come across.

“Oh shit,” the women said flustered at the exchange. “You wanted two shots of the red label?” She spoke carefully enunciating each word and lifting the bottle with one hand and holding two fingers up. Greg nodded again this time giving her a full smile before she gave him his drink and explaining to him that the drink was on the house after refusing his money.

A few drinks later he lit up another cigarette and the bartender came back looking at him with an apologetic expression before pointing at the no smoking sign. Greg grumbled to himself silently before he finished his drink and started to head outside to finish his smoke.

As he stepped outside a burnt taste filled his mouth and a metallic type of smell mixed with ozone filled his lungs as he inhaled.

He updated his vows to include higher quality smokes too. But the smell and taste intensifying made him realize it wasn’t the cigarette.

He didn’t see any smoke anywhere nor any fire. Putting out his cigarette he inhaled again even deeper only to smell even more of the strange scent. His interest as well as his concern peaked, and he started to look around for the cause of the peculiar smell.

Walking around he finally noticed further in the alley that he could see strange sparks of some sort coming around a bend of corner.

Thinking it was an electrical fire Greg walked closer to the building to avoid the rain. When he arrived at the scene, he was even more confused. The smell was certainly caused by the sparks as it was so strong now, he was having a hard time breathing in the air around him.

The sparks seemed to just appear in the air and swirl in random directions. They had a deep purple color and where starting to become more pronounced spinning faster and faster. Nothing in the area seemed responsible for the phenomenon.

Greg debated whether to run for help to extinguish the fire hazard or keep looking at the bizarre situation unfolding before him. Suddenly the air turned still and the very space where the sparks where was rendered apart; nothing but a blackness was revealed behind the gaping void. Before Greg could process what happened he felt intense pain and just as suddenly he felt his ankle being grabbed the tear engulfing him before closing up behind him.