People are spilling from every doorway, washing over the streets and adding to the wave of bodies pressing down on the bridge.

They're leaving. No hurry or panic, but calm exodus flowing through every soul. The city is being drained.

Eyes are locked on the horizon, they hardly blink. Step by step, they walk on.

But the spell is broken for one. Like a man drowning, he begins to panic. Head jerking wildly side to side, trying to get the attention of the passers by.

He turns.

One man facing the wrong way against a sea of many. They are unnerved. Unfocussed eyes swing on liquid hinges towards him. They stare as they flow past.

He calms down. He claims the gift of the few: rationality before mass confusion.

He walks forward. He fights the tide.