The Lone Courier

The checkpoints were all unmanned now, but the Lone Wanderer still presented his papers to every empty box. With a burlap-and-tin head illuminating the path ahead and a canvas bag slung low across his chest, he navigated the dead alleys of the district. A small light flickered from his shoulder fixture, a pathetic little beacon against the sprawling dark. He walked with the heavy, rhythmic gait of someone who had miles left to go and no one waiting at the end