Well here they were, Two thieves in the night, stepping out into a world of silence and heartache. They both walked over the pavement with long confident strides, As if in some hurry for a very important meeting, But truth be told niether of them had anywhere to go, Nowhere they were wanted anyway. So they walked and talked, Talked of times when things had been better, about work they had and work they were promised, Kisses stolen in the night, Awkward moments of lust in teenage bodies, and as they stepped ever further into the ice cold night. There was a feeling of knowing between the two, As if they had been here before.
Sure enough as the cold had promised, Soon they were the last two people they could see, The sounds of there foots steps bouncing back and forth, Echoing out through emtpy streets, And yet heard by nothing. Heads tucked in tight to there jackets and hands deep in there pockets they strike forward to their destination, After Many lonely thoughts and deep inhaled cigereats they arrived.
Looming over them, and looking down with tousands of emtionless eyes was Fatima Mansions, James looked at Jack and they passed through the arch way into Block A. The silence of the night was broken like a crystal mirror shattered, Whistles and calls filled the Air. "Are ya lookin?" shouts one, "Brown or White" scream the others, Faces like gaunt devils, Look at them with shifty hallow eyes. The smell of burning rubber and heartache is almost too much. But yet they march on through the death and despair, "Nearly there" warns James. Silence is what answers him,
As the night reaches its coldest, They arrive at the door, Painted bright red with a single door knocker in the middle, It stands out from the old decayed doors of its neighboors. As Jack reaches out to knock on the door, James takes a deep breath,. He lifts the knocker high once . and Lets it fall, with what seems to them a earth shaking thud. After what seems like an eternity, From behind the fire red door they here footsteps, coming closer and closer, like a second hand ticking away. As the door creeks open and the billows of smoke come creeping through the crack of the half open door.
