Its a matter of life and death.
One man, a single figure, stands alone on a street corner. The toes of his expensive yet worn shoes just hang over the edge of the sidewalk, but he doesnt notice. His thinning, graying hair moves in an unfelt breeze as the pedestrian light on the other side of the crosswalk flashes the walk icon, but he doesnt notice.
The flow of bustling people around him does not slow or stop for him as unconcerned individuals hurry home from both work and play. Some notice the still man but no one stops to offer help or ask if there is a problem; they have their own issues to think of.
The nameless, faceless man doesnt care about them either. In some distant, unconnected bit of his consciousness, in the back of his mind he does notice the hordes passing him, but they are unimportant. His attention is focused entirely before him.
High in the air, above and seemingly around the citys skyscrapers, is a dark shape. Does it hover or float? He cant tell. It cant be a shadow suspended in midair, but hes sure there is some sort of shadow-like property to it. The edges arent solid, he thinks, they seem to flow and move independently of the center.
And it is growing. That he is definitely sure of. It is growing steadily larger with each passing moment.
His simple black briefcase, battered only on the bottom corners and along one vertical side, drops from limp fingers. It bounces before it falls to lie on the concrete. It will be kicked twice before someone - not its original owner but someone showing interest - will pick it up and take it away.
Or is it just growing closer?
He is gone.