Four Minutes of His Life

**Saveman** · 02-Apr-08, 00:30

He walked slowly down the empty street. Cars were parked randomly on each side. The streetlights filled pockets of the road and footpath with a cold oasis of orange light. The night was overpowering and impenetrable above the lampposts.
He had to remind himself it was only 730pm, but this was winter. The wind cut through his jacket and made him shiver momentarily.

Most houses had lights on, some had their curtains shut, others did not. He found his eyes drawn into the bright living rooms of curtains undrawn.
People were talking, some walking and watching. Some were eating, some sleeping. One man was topless. Two living rooms were brightly lit and empty.
It was at this point he wondered why he found this passing voyeurism so interesting. He felt a twinge of guilt.
People living out their lives, a two second snippet in the life of someone he didn’t know and would never meet. As he came to the end of the street what struck him was the fact that this was only one street in one small town, in a country of hundreds of towns and cities. In a world of hundreds of countries. How many people would he never know in his life? How many people would never know or care about him? A dog barked nearby and a car passed.
He entered a larger street now. The orange oasis were wider apart, this increasing the feeling in his body that he was slowly shrinking and ultimately becoming a tiny insignificant speck in a huge universe of uninterested humans and streetlights.