Joe and Sam stood by the time clock, anxiously watching the final seconds of their work night tick away. After what seemed an eternity, the second hand moved and the whistle blew, signifying their release from the factory. Their time cards, which had been at the ready for five plus minutes now, slid into the slot, until the reassuring click was heard, a click that made Sam think somehow of shackles being released. Joe and Sam began their long walk home in the moonlight.

There was no sound except their footsteps and the roar of the vehicles of their exiting coworkers. Joe broke the silence.

"I heard they picked you up the other night for picking up a prostitute".
"Yeah, they caught me at one of them no-tell motels out on the loop. I been goin' there for awhile."

Silence. The scurrying sounds of rats rushing back to the dumpsters in the wake of their approaching footsteps.

"But, why, Sam? Ain't the girls at McSorley's good enough for that? And what about the Internet?"
"McSorleys, the Internet. It ain't the same, Joe. Those places, the girls are only out for sex."
"I don't understand. Wasn't that the point of finding a pro?"

Sam stopped. "Joe, you been to my place. What do you see? A bunch of empty beer cases and pizza boxes. TV in one corner, bed in the other. Hell, I can't even keep a dog. Every one of 'em runs out on the street after the first bitch that presents herself in the alleyway. My life's pretty empty, Joe. Not much to fill it."

"So you know what I do? I go out on the boulevard, and I find someone, anyone, who will fill that emptiness for a few hours. Sure it costs, sure there's risk, but for a few fleeting moments, I AM someone. With someone to care that I exist, even if just for a moment. I'm there, Joe, because for just a few ticking hours of the clock, I don't feel like nothing."