Leigh 🫶🏻

The emptiness after a job well done was more than familiar now.

His apartment was cold, the dodgy air conditioner humming and rattling noisily— the only sound in the lonely little one-bed.

Through the wall he could catch faint snippets of conversation. An argument, maybe. He removed his jacket, placing it carefully over the back of his rickety desk chair. And then came the gloves, folded neatly and tucked into his pocket.

His gaze drifted out the large window.

Streetlights pricked the skyline like ugly little manmade stars. The whole city was mess of neon and LED and lights that sometimes felt like too much, but without them he knew he’d just feel worse.

He was in one of those moods again.

No matter how well his day went— no matter how much he was paid, no matter whether or not the job had worked out, some days he just… spiralled. One misery after another after another until suddenly the sun was up, and his brain was moving far too quickly for him to even attempt to sleep.

He lay down on his bed, not bothering to change his clothes. Most nights he was a freak about it, the mere thought of outdoor clothes touching his bed was enough to make his skin crawl.

But not tonight.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, lashes fluttering in and out of his sight.

He could hear the voices through the wall again. Not an argument. Their TV was a little too loud, and he heard the squeaky voices of an overly animated children’s show presenter.

Who the hell lets their kid stay up that late anyway?

His mind began to wander once more, drifting and coiling and leading him down shadowed paths he’d rather not remember. Brains were tricky things. Always showing him the uglies right as he was nodding off.

What was the point, he often found himself wondering. Putting himself in danger day after day and night after night. The stunts, the getaway driving, witnessing shootout after shootout and leaving people behind without hesitating once. Five minutes was all he ever gave them. One minute earlier, one minute later, was none of his business. Only those five minutes mattered.

It was shitty.

A shitty, stupid thing for a shitty, stupid man. There must’ve been a time where he enjoyed the thrill, the uncertainty of it all. Every second was sacred. He wasn’t sloppy— God, no, he’d never be sloppy. He was paid for a reason. But the thrill was long gone. It was dull, now. Like any other nine-to-five. He just had to grimace and get through it and then he was free.

But fuck, free to do what?

No family.

No girlfriend.

His only friend was shitty-fucking-Shannon. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if the old fool liked him for anything other than his skill.

At the end of the of the day, that’s all he was, wasn’t it?

He was skilled.

He was a driver.