The supermarket exited on to a motorway through-road, the traffic gradually thinning as the road widened for a large junction that took people far in to the countries with hope of reaching the city or down the fractured spine and ribs of the whole continent, breaking out from little content at approved places, the roads falling over one another, ending abruptly.

The east side of the building housing the supermarket was also used to service buses, long open walkways with large panes of Perspex looking out onto rows of inlets for vehicles. Several people smoked on the paved perimeter of the station, leaning against the Perspex and looking back on the crowd. The top of the building served as the town’s main car park, composed of four layers in which men’s voices from the stairwell reverberated with little stressed emphases.

A small group of people had gathered across the road from the station, still, talking amongst themselves. Passers by joined, less frequently people left or walked by without paying too much attention. From this distance it was peaceful, the buses moved out the station with a heavy flow as the roads bunched up around them. The crowd was peaceful, stood in front of a half abandoned lot forgone in favour of the multi-storey building. As she approached the figure on the roof of the building became clear, detail not visible from the shadows cast by the midday light, but there was something slow in him, like no one was watching.

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