It must have been the tenth time this week that he had walked down this back street. Each time he walked down it he didn’t see a single living soul. Yesterday he lingered by the door of the long abandoned lock up garage, surveying each direction to see if he could see anybody. He saw nobody. If he could see nobody, nobody could see him. He did the same today, checking twice to make sure. He was alone and wasn’t being watched.
Moving quickly, he put his rucksack on the floor, stretching his body as he bent down to unzip it. He had long thought about this moment. Today was the day. Today was the day that he was going to leave his mark on the world. Reaching into his rucksack, he grabbed the can of spray paint that he had nervously bought earlier. He practiced the conversation many times in his head for when he bought it. “I’m respraying my bike” he would say. The cashier didn’t ask because the cashier didn’t care enough to ask.
Shaking the can, he stepped forward towards the garage door. He suddenly became aware of how loud the can was rattling as he shook it. It was now or never. If anybody caught him now, he’d have to make a run for it.
Confidently he started to spray the design he had practiced dozens of times in his various notepads. It took no more than twenty seconds and he was finished. He put the spray can in his bag walked away, not sticking around long enough to admire his handiwork. The smell of the aerosol was thick in the air. He could blag his way out of it at this moment but he’d rather not. The adrenaline was pumping through his body. He smiled to himself as he made his way home. Today, he left his mark on the world. Tomorrow he will come back to take a picture of his handiwork. He would tell no one what he had done. It was his little secret.