Dead end. Neon lights flash in comatose disjointedness.

And I am empty. I am empty and the world is dead.

Outside of where I sit, the town burns. It burns to ashes. Sirens toll. There’s the smell of the crematorium. I think of beauty. Four weeks until I can go home. There’s this really irritating guy opposite. He keeps trying to catch my eye. I stare unblinking until he looks away. He is blank. He is blank and I am empty. The tattoo slapped on his tanned arm is a dragon. I realise he is Asian. I wonder if he wants to fuck.

Earlier I saw Brett. Brett asked if there was a party last night. I shrugged and smiled. ‘There’s a party next week.’

He breathed dope. I gazed on vacant eyes. He mocked a Southern drawl, ‘A party for a lil’ lady.’ The joint was offered. My nostrils filled and itched. I had looked away and shook my head.

‘Thing’s will be okay’ he'd offered.

I'd nodded, 'Yeah.' Things would not be okay.

The town continues to burn. Hot men in sweating nomex pretend to care. They thud past the window, faces mangled by Kevlar visors. I stir and finger the Visa in my pocket. The account is empty. The battery of my mobile is flat. I offer the tired-eyed waitress five bucks and call my Mom.

My tone is light, I nod, I smile. I watch the paramedics carry out a zippered body-bag from the smouldering ruin.

‘Yes Mom, it’s great. Yes, I’m eating.’

‘Oh the usual, you know.’

‘Yes, he’s okay too. No, he isn’t coming to visit.’

‘Why what?’

‘Oh. He’s busy.’

‘I know Mom, maybe next month okay?’

‘Sure, Daddy and I are getting along fine. He’s poor though. Mom, stop. You know what it’s like here.’

‘….’

‘….’

‘That would be awesome Mom, thanks.’

‘Yes, great. I have to go. My friends are here.’

‘I love you too.’

We hang up. I’m tired. I smile at the expectant waitress’ eyes. She has hungry eyes with fading bruises beneath. I hand her another five dollar note. Outside the burnt house, the police have gathered. Flat noise adds dizziness as I stand. My plate is abandoned. The swirl of grease has long since cooled.