The hole in his right shoe had started to fill with water; the wool of his sock slick with city muck. Mind hazy from three too many drinks. World blurred with a heavy blind of condensation.
Watching over the man with winking eyes, the stars silently witnessed his last mortal moments. With unstable feet such as his, it was only a matter of time before he toppled over the lonely bridge, pulled down by gravity and a stomach full of ale.
He might have shivered at the impact of water on his bare face, but he was already bounds away from consciousness, running from life like one would an escaped circus lion. Envisioning himself a bubble springing upon the heaving surface, the man let the river have its way with him. Weeds and sea grasses smoothed over his wrinkled frame, caressing him with persistence.
Wordlessly demanding sacrifice.
Though he had nothing to give, he gave.