He sniffs, and wipes his eyes desperately, and - walks.  Away.  Not toward his apartment, not toward anything.  Fuck toward.  He walks away.

He barely remembers the way he felt last night.  He barely remembers any way he felt.  Waste.

The sun comes up, as he walks.

His steps slow, as the city brightens.

He stops.

He isn't going anywhere.  Whatever he thought we was doing, whatever he thought he was giving up on or getting away from - it's bullshit.  He can't even get being a melodramatic loser right.

He turns around.

Because his deranged obsession with this inexplicable fucking box is somehow now the only good thing in his life, and he wants to go lean against it like a creep some more.

He gets to the alley.

It's not there.

It's not fucking there.

It disappeared.

He actually almost falls over.  He doesn't; he staggers and leans against the wall of the alley, facing it, his arm braced against the wall and his face buried in the crook of his elbow.

To his utter humiliation, he gasps out a sob.

He slumps, to his knees, and starts crying.

He cries at the fact that the box is gone.  He cries at the fact that he cared about it, when it was just an inexplicable object that showed up one day and disappeared the next; he cries at the fact that he is feeling these emotions, that he did not ask to feel, that were forced upon him, that happened to him because of something he saw that he became attached to for no reason; he cries at the fact that he is a person that cries so fucking much.  He cries at the fact that he has the presence of mind, while crying, to move deeper into the alleyway so no one notices him crying, because if he still cares about things like not being embarrassed how upset can he actually be, and yet he is still crying.

He is still crying.

He coughs and sputters and breathes raggedly, as he cries; and he continues to do so, as he finally runs out of tears.

He breathes.

He wipes his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, with the sleeve of his coat.

He breathes.

His face is still hot, his eyes tangibly puffy and red.  He grinds the palms of his hands against them.

He needs something to drink.

He doesn't want to walk into the diner across the street, because the cashier might recognize him, and then someone who recognizes him would have seen him when he's just been crying; so he gets to his feet and trudges toward the other side of the alley.

Mechanically, he turns right, as the alley lets out; walks past an abandoned auto repair shop, into a convenience store.  Purchases a bottle of water.  He doesn't actually say any words or make eye contact with the cashier, which he assumes they think is pretty rude of him, but who gives a shit.

There's not really anyone around, but he still doesn't want to be out in the open right now.

He tries the door to the auto shop, not really expecting it to be unlocked, already digging in his pocket for a paperclip.

It opens.

...huh.  Okay.

He ducks inside and shuts the door behind him.

The first thing he notices is the running box fan.

(That's, uh, weird, actually, if this place is supposed to be abandoned.  Is someone else hiding out here?)

The second thing he notices is the grit in the air - he blinks, a couple times, and rubs his eyes.

The third thing he notices is that the box fan has a cut-open sandbag right behind it.  So maybe that's why the air feels so gritty, because there's a box fan blowing sand directly into his eyes.

He steps out of the path of the fan, which is a bit better but not completely, and takes a sip of his water, and glances warily around.

Looks like a reception area, not the sort of room you'd do actual auto work in.  The box fan / sandbag setup is on a counter on the opposite wall.  There's a red door, to the right of the entrance, which should lead to the garage.

That door catches his eye for some reason, though he can't say why.  Sip.

The box fan hums.

He blinks another speck of sand out of his eye.  Sip.

He should probably get out of here.

 - and yet, it feels like there's something on the other side of that door.

Thump.

Okay yeah he definitely needs to get out of here.