Danny had been kicking the can down the road for long enough. He was a lost soul in his own little world. Frustration and sheer boredom had led him to this place. He’d been walking the same cold, lonely streets of this old town for a lifetime. His whole lifetime; thirty-two miserable years.

The shadow of the slowly disappearing autumn night surrounded him. The early morning light was being suffocated by the murky clouds above him. There was a struggle going on to breathe new life into the day. The light would not be breaking through for some time, it appeared.      

Danny decided it was time to give that can one final kick. He had been putting things off for so long, but he desperately needed to change. He had to give his current situation a venomous toe-punt into obscurity, using every meagre ounce of energy that he had left in his body. There was little in the way of poise and grace remaining about him. The effect of the lagers and vodka he’d been ploughing through over the course of several previous hours – and, in truth, several previous years – had seen to that. All he could concentrate on right now, though, was retaining a semblance of balance and hoping that his aim was true.       

Home seemed a long way off still. Why had he gone back to that house party? It was on the other side of town. And he barely knew who any of the group were. Complete strangers at the beginning of the evening who had become best friends within a matter of hours, and who were now faceless nobodies again by the end of the night. Danny had eventually left the party alone, quietly slipping out the back door without even the effort of a simple goodbye to anyone. Most likely without a single soul noticing him gone from proceedings either. He’d stumbled his way along a series of empty, desolate streets, hands deep in his coat pockets, and was now back in the city centre, where his night had initially begun.            

The throngs of pissed up people exuberantly enjoying their nights out from earlier on were now long gone. The streets were deserted. The bars and clubs had all closed. Even the kebab houses were all shut; that’s how late it was. Danny pulled his phone out from his jeans pocket to check the time. 5:52 AM. Fucking hell, he thought.        

He paused for a moment and briefly contemplated trying a taxi rank. It was some effort just concentrating on holding himself up straight. It had seemed easier when he was on the move. But the cool night air on his face and the faint breeze as he walked definitely seemed to have sobered him up a little bit. He was simply just knackered now.  He looked around at the tired, sleeping buildings about him. The stillness and noiselessness of his surroundings was both refreshing and disturbing in equal measure. It didn’t seem right that these streets were so quiet. The death of the high street. But he liked it too. Right now, he owned this town; there was nobody in sight, but him.

He decided against trying for a taxi. He couldn’t be bothered to interact with anyone. As much as his feet and limbs were telling him that they needed their bed as soon as possible, the thought of making the effort to conduct a conversation with anyone right now felt too painful. He was a walker; he always walked home from a night out in town. So, he pushed on again, shuffling through the precinct, alone, save for the reflections in the windows and the weary thoughts in his head.

Then he saw the can. Just sitting there all alone, upright, next to a nearby bench. A lonely, single beer can, left on its own in the middle of town, with nothing and nobody to keep it company, disregarded by society.

Danny knew in an instant that it was time to kick the can. His hands were already out of his pockets to aid his balance and he was lining himself up as he began a short run-up. Into his head shot the brief image of a looping rugby penalty kick flying gracefully over and between some imagined posts in the distance. He gave an almighty swing and wellied the can as hard as he could, expecting it to be light and empty and needing a bit of force to get it air bound.

The beer can was probably three-quarters full. There was no looping, graceful flight. It was sent low and fizzing, badly hooked to the left, a deranged, target-less missile that smashed and splashed into the doorway of the Dorothy Perkins store with an acrimonious thud.

Danny stood frozen in sobered horror for a split second as he watched his dramatic spot-kick unfold, until the security alarm screamed into life. And then he ran. He ran as fast and as hard as those weary feet and limbs could carry him.

Danny needed to change. Danny needed to get out of this old town as soon as he possibly could.