A Slight Stumble

There is no one to meet Raj when he walks out the front door. He stops and looks around the carpark, squinting into the sun. The buzz of insects is deafening and disorienting. But there are no people. Not even a journalist. The public's interest must have waned significantly while he's been inside. That's probably a good thing. He will try not to take it personally. He waves at the guard in his turret, who probably would have fired his gun at him had he walked out here yesterday. He doesn't care if he waves back. All that's important is that somebody witness his release from prison. Otherwise it might not be real. The sun is blinding and he nearly catches his ankle in a pothole. He is walking too fast. He imagines the guard aiming his gun at him, maybe they forgot to tell him, maybe he thinks he's an escapee. He castigates himself and forces himself to slow down. He turns left at the car park gates, and keeps walking. This is what he knows. You stumble, you get back up, and you keep on walking.