"Sir.. Are you okay?"

The soft voice intruded his attempts to adjust to reality. The coarse bricks he'd found himself leaning against formed indentations on his rough fingertips. He shook his head with quick motion a few times in a wasted effort to soak up the reality of it all.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He answered the soft voice rather abruptly, squinting his eyes trying to make sense of their fuzzy face.
"Oh, Pollution.. Oh, dear. What sort of state have you got yourself in? Come with me.. Come on."

Her voice was welcoming and persuasive, polite and clear - far too well-spoken for this end of the City. She was surely from the much nicer streets, where Smog HQ was now located perhaps. Maybe that was where he knew her from? He wasn't sure, but she certainly knew him. He'd found himself too out of position to understand it right now and so proceeded to just struggle on alongside her. 

Eventually the crowds thinned and noises hushed somewhat. They'd left the busier end of town and found themselves outside a modest, small establishment - a business of some sort. He couldn't be sure what it was. Perhaps a coffee shop? Upon entering, he was met with the smell of coffee and.. something else that really began to wake him up. He sniffed a few more times, moving his head around in a more controlled fashion than before. Ah yes.. It definitely was what he thought - marijuana.

Pollution was always raised to keep away from the drugs they moved. It was bad for business to desire your own product over the movement of it. However, marijuana was his naughty little secret that always remained true to him. Sure, he had money, cars, women, respect - everything a man could possibly want, right? Wrong. All Pollution really needed to keep content was his quiet, little drug. The rest of it was purely to feed his desire of being remembered for his success.

He'd looked once more at the woman's face and shock struck him quicker and harder than lightening. It was unbelievable... almost as if he'd seen a - yes, a ghost. The woman he was convinced he'd seen was the same woman (or girl, as she was then) he was sure had died when he was just a young man, how could this be? On closer inspection, he'd noticed it didn't add up. This woman had too many years on her to be that same sweetheart he once knew. He squinted his eyes at her as the whirlwind of confusion in his brain worsened. 

"Do I kn-...." He stammered and stopped before finishing the sentence.

"Oh,dear. Don't worry. You're in a safe place. I know you... Or knew you - when you were just a child. Well... A young man, actually, but I'll never get past how tiny you were as a boy."

Pollution sat staring a moment, watching her as she left the room before returning with a glass of water.

"So I do know you, then? ... Did you know my parents?" he quizzed her.

"Kind of. I knew of your parents. You were friends with my girl, God rest her soul."

Pollution's brain finally clicked, it all pieced together perfectly in his head and finally a name had sprung to mind,

"Mrs. Bobbie..?" He still wasn't sure.

A warming smile shone from her face as she lay a damp flannel over the arm of the chair in offering. Moving her aching body towards a soft-fabric chair nearby, she bent her body in half and disappeared into it. A strong sigh of relief was released from her lungs as she rested her legs. He'd realised what a strain he'd caused the sweet woman,

"I'm sorry for doing this to you... I just had a bad night."

She nodded comfortingly. A brief pause happened before she responded,

"And how many of those have you had recently?"

Pollution sighed, dropping his back into the chair. 

"Too many."

A growing noise was heard from the direction Mrs. Bobbie had disappeared to before. It caught Pollution's attention briefly before Mrs. Bobbie interrupted,

"Oh, that'll be the kettle. Let me get that and then you can tell me all about how those bad nights."

Pollution broke a smile, emotions filled his chest. It wasn't often Pollution came across someone just looking to be a kind soul. His line of work tended to keep him away from the real nice people with no agenda. He sat for a moment, piecing the night together in his head, waiting for the lady's return.