1984 Alternate Ending

Mere seconds after the sun had fallen, an army of artificial light stood at attention. The remnants of the retreating darkness danced around the figure of the sole woman wandering along the vacant streets. Her feet shuffled briskly as her eyes scrutinized the puffs of her breath escaping her nostrils. The man-made lights exposed no excitement from her face over spending a single unnecessary second on the squalid inner city streets.
The woman reached into her oversized purse without sparing a glance and retrieved her cell phone. Before she was able to check the time, her trembling hands failed her and the phone fell to the cement below. She stooped to the ground, hoping her speed would somehow lower the chances of a shattered screen. Despite
“You know damn well that wasn’t my fault. There’s no one to blame but her for this whole mess. So just shut the hell up and let me walk you home. It’s really not safe out here.” Before his hand could lift from its resting place on his knee, the can of mace stared him in the eyes.
“I said I must get going, George. Now please leave me alone.” His eyes grew wide at her deliberate defiance. His mouth opened wide, but no words left his mouth. Instead, he turned slowly, with his head the last to go. She waited until his mumbled curses dissipated before she turned away. Each step away from George surged with more and more purpose.
With George no longer in the picture, the fewer wisps of smoke emanating from her lips became. She was alone once more, with only the creaking of old buildings to keep her company. If her current situation gave her any sense of discomfort, she no longer showed it. If anything she gave the appearance of a schoolgirl on the first day of summer vacation. Her grin grew wide as her steps transformed into skips. Her quick fits of laughter echoed across the claustrophobic lane. Despite its unsteady footing, the purse did not seem to
Her eyes engrossed themselves in the neon sign before her blinking to life. She had never considered herself much of a drinker, but now seemed as good of a time as any to give it a go. She hobbled into the liquor store, her purse stiff suffocated in her bosom. The shopkeeper gave no effort to hide his judgement of this enigma before him. The dress she wore suggested wealth, but the filth clinging to it declared suggested otherwise. She perused for a while before settling on a sizable bottle of honey brandy. As she positioned the bottle on the mahogany counter, the man gave her another once