“The garbage they hang on reels these days.”

He stepped out of the Colossus, tossing an empty bag of popcorn and Coke bottle into a nearby trash. The movie house was so big that it cast a shadow of its façade onto the pavement, like Helios looking down at Rhodes. You didn’t have to be outside to know it had rained; all you had to do was look at the puddles mirroring the house lights, which even the moon couldn’t compete with.

Loosening his tie and nudging his hat towards the back of his head, he pulled a pack of smokes and a book of matches from a pocket of his raincoat, nudging free one of the slender white sticks which he took between his lips. Tearing a match from the book he struck the head of it against the sole of his shoe, and lit the end of the cigarette which dangled out a short distance from his mouth. The tip glowed when touched by the flame, and he cupped his free hand around it to block it from the wind, then took in a strong breath of hot tobacco smoke.