He found an abstract kind of happiness lurking in the fog that swallowed his town. He couldn't see anything, he didn't want to. The mist had taken over everything. Stepping into the street it all felt so free, he walked, loomed and hovered with it.
His arms felt like wings he started to pick up his pace.
Arms flapping and a smile on his face as the miasma filled his lungs, he ran.
The sound of a million birds squaking the squealing tires of a braking car.