Evening.

John stands on the emergency fire stairs of the house he lives in.

Below him, the city life goes on loud and uncontrolled.

"..."

John wasn't a man of a lot of words.

He smoked. He had just finished his last case. Came back home.

The black cat let the cigarette hang in his mouth and started walking down the fire stairs casually, up until he reached the last part, which was a ladder. He climbed down, dusted his coat off and started walking into the night of New York, without a plan.