Write about someone who can’t sleep due to jet lag, and decides to set out and explore their new city at night instead.

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Another check-in desk, another bland foyer restaurant, and another night in a city that was not home. He called his wife to see how the school drop off had gone without him there and to let her know he’d arrived safely at the hotel. He wished more than anything to be home, but here he was – desperately trying to sell his product across the country in the hope that someday it would provide for his family. His wife could stop work, he could quit doing stale office jobs in between sales trips to pay the bills. But mostly, he could say he was a success.

Aaron hoped the meetings the following morning would result in a sale – any kind of sale – and that word would get out: ‘the Oritone is incredible!’, ‘you need the Oritone in your office’, ‘how does your business even function without the Oritone!’.

Months and months of Zoom meetings and phone calls with potential clients had rolled by, and a few businesses had jumped on board. But with each passing day it was looking more and more like this path was not working. He desperately needed to sell more and sell better.

He placed his suitcase on the sideboard, opened the curtains and looked out at the falling sun. This town was cloaked in mist, and light rain clouds were circling the edges of the skyline. He had eaten on the plane so he was not hungry, and despite the late hour he was not sleepy. It was 11 am back home, and his body refused to accept the new time zone. His only real option was to watch television or walk. He chose to walk. At least some fresh air might lift his spirits.

Grabbing his key card, coat, wallet and phone he made his way out of the room, past the concierge desk and drab restaurant to the street. A taxi driver peered up from his steering wheel to see if this man would be his next fare, but Aaron turned right and paced away from the hotel entrance. A light rain began to drizzle, and he pulled the hood of his coat up and over. The taxi driver continued waiting.

The asphalt crunched beneath his boots, and the occasional passing car swept past with a loud shhhh. Street lights created long shadows ahead and behind him along the footpath. The traffic lights shone brightly towards him through the darkness and the pedestrian man blinked in red at a slow and consistent pace.

His heart rate settled and his breathing found a steady rhythm. He felt ok, much less anxious than he would have been sitting in the hotel watching terrible late night television. He allowed his mind to hover, to see what came.

The little green man flashed wildly and the tick tock overwhelmed the quiet street. He wasn’t sure why he’d waited for permission to cross the street – there was no one around. He could walk as he wished. But he followed the rules, always.

With each passing step he began to think more clearly. Piece by piece he was able to line up the blocks of his mind. The business was struggling, but he thought back to all the sunken costs, the time, the development, the meetings. What would it all have been for if all he did was give up?

Crossing the street he paced towards the main plaza in town, toward the statue by the fountain. The stillness of the street was calming, and he felt comfortable leaning up against the cold and damp edges of the fountain. Watching the cool water jump up and landing he watched the ripples roll around the darkened water, taking deep breaths.

‘Hey there,’ said an invisible voice, gently and warmly. He peered around hurriedly to find the owner of the voice. Wandering over to his right was a gentleman. His voice was youthful and bright, it drew Aaron in and despite the strange circumstance, he was not afraid.

‘Beautiful spot, isn’t it? I’m Martin,’ he said, smiling. Aaron smiled back and introduced himself as well.

‘I will admit it’s a strange place to be at 11pm at night, though. What brings you out here?’, asked Martin.

‘I’m on a business trip, a little jet lagged, only just flew in,’ Aaron said. Martin nodded in reply.

‘I’ve spent many a sleepless night walking the streets here myself,’ said Martin, before letting an awkward break fall in the conversation.

Aaron was not open to discussing his woes with a stranger, but he shared a little in an attempt to smooth out their lumpy conversation.

‘It’s a…a good way to mull things over, you know?’, he finally said, not entirely convinced. Martin agreed.

Realising he should probably try to get some sleep in he decided it was time to begin wandering back to the hotel.

‘Well, I better get back before they lock me out of the hotel, ha,’ he said. Martin suddenly became quite eager.

‘Where are you staying?’, he snapped urgently. Aaron began to feel uncomfortable and his eyes darted around looking for a taxi.

‘Ahhh I forget the name, it’s one of those big hotel chains, y’know? Anyway, I gotta bolt so, nice meeting you,’ he had begun pacing but Martin had taken pursuit right behind him. Aaron picked up his feet and went.

Cold wet shoes slapped the pavement and Aaron grabbed onto telephone poles and bollards to turn corners as fast as he could. No matter how fast he ran, Martin was always just behind. Aaron’s eyes darted up and down every street for a taxi, a policeman, anyone who could help but the streets had remained empty.

Cutting through alleyways and trying to lose him amongst flowers and trees lining the street Aaron maintained his pace. He was only a few streets away from the hotel now but Martin was not slowing down. He needed to throw something at him to shove him off course. Getting closer and closer to the hotel, now at the end of the street, he saw what he needed – a medium sized garbage can. Perfect.

Leaning down as he raced down the empty street he picked up the can madly with both hands, turned around and flung it at Martin, who was knocked to the ground and huffing in frustration. Aaron turned on the spot and kept running, looking for more things he could throw in Martin’s direction. He grabbed a pot plant and an a-frame sign, both clattering to the ground. Aaron had managed to gain a little more distance and he knew his best shot was to get into the key access hotel lobby.

Fumbling in his pocket for his key card, he pulled up right in front of the double glass doors. But with one unfortunate motion the key card slipped from his grip, tumbling down and disappearing into the drain below. With panic dropping deep into his stomach he frantically knocked on the glass doors to get the clerks attention.

The clerk noticed him and began to dawdle over, painfully slow. Aaron turned around, certain that Martin would be right behind him. But the valet was abandoned, even the taxis had called it quits for the night. Martin was nowhere to be seen.

Finally the clerk opened the glass doors, ‘can I help you, sir?’.

Aaron tried to create an excuse, mumbling something about losing his key card and the rain, and the clerk nodded. They both entered the foyer, Aaron keeping a watchful eye on the outside world.

Several metres away, standing strong in the shadows, was Martin – watching and waiting, wiping the blood from his cut lip.

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Photo by Stormseeker.