A slight departure from the Gestalt themed stories today.
Paul glanced behind him as he walked up the dimly lit street. He knew the way, but he also knew what lurked down the alleys. Once upon a time, it had been him. Those days were long behind him, but he was sure he’d find an enemy or two that he made, if he looked.
His picked up his pace as he walked past The Spin, a record store well past it’s prime. If he hadn’t been in a hurry to reach his destination, he would have paused, not to peer in the window, but to stare at the ruins across the street. He had always had a fondness for the old place. But now was not the time.
Onward he moved, past empty lots that he still remembered as something else, past construction sites that always seemed to be construction sites, not buildings. A restaurant or two, a condemned building. Here, he paused. He stared at the boarded up windows. He wondered who (or what) lived inside it now.
He continued, his destination now in sight. He let up his pace a bit, and looked around. Another empty lot, though he remembered when a junk store had stood there. A narrow monolith further down, where he had honed his craft. Yet another empty lot. He still remembered the blaze.
He continued past another monolith, with another memory or three. A few doors down, the sound of rock music played from an open door, the lights inviting. Even this place held a plethora of memories. He glanced back up the street, and let the memories flood over him again. Then he turned, and continued past the open door, on to his destination.