The last song for the last set was playing on the radio. It was the perfect morning song: Straight to Hell by Drivin' and Cryin'. As the song to his life played in the background, Mobius was ready to sign-off. "Good morning, all you WPPK listeners. I'm outta here for the day. Stay cool and keep the dreams alive." He switch the line over to the morning traffic lady. She was, of course, too perky for Mobius. “Who gives a shit about the traffic? It's backed-up in the city. So what?” The station was filling with the day shift. As he walked out of the radio station, Mobius glanced up at the hazy morning sky. Lost in some random song in his mind, Mobius stopped to pick-up his eggs-to-go. As he walked into the apartment, he saw everything in its place. Towels hung neatly in the bathroom. Tub was scrubbed, floor was swept, kitchen counters ordered. All was a product of another sleepless night. Even his cats, Flotsam and Jetsam, were getting annoyed with his wakeful days and nights. They barely stirred in the chair when he came in. He lay in his bed in the middle of the bedroom and looked out the window. Flotsam jumped up and walked across him briefly stopping to look into his eyes. Jumped down, and moved on. “Good morning to you too, mister.” Curtains wide open as he stared at the hazy sky hoping it would rain. He heard a police siren in the distance. “White noise, white noise.” He thought. Music drifted in to his thoughts. He got-up and went to the turn table and started the stack of vinyl. The first 45 to drop was Miles and Coltrane’s Milestones. His apartment sat on the corner of the building, halfway-up. From his window on one side he could see the graveyard, the market and the park. On the other, he looked out over the train tracks and the “Lake.” If the sun did shine, he had to drop the shades on that side to get any sleep. He sat in the chair looking out over the grave yard and the buildings that shadowed the stones. The city was waking. He began to doze. The second 45 dropped, Earth, Wind, and Fire, “That’s the Way, Of the world….” He moved to the couch, briefly glancing into the big mirror that hung above it. The city reflected into it. For a moment, Mobius was once again in the streets, among the buildings. He reached for the bong, dropped a bit in the bowl, sat back into the couch, put his feet-up. Mobius sighed “Another sleepless day.” Hendrick’s Castles in the Sand dropped. He picked-up the paperback that lay spread eagle on the coffee table. Murder mystery. Another murder mystery.