Tom blew smoke from the edge of his mouth and eyed me askance through the haze. “Back again? You going for a record or something? How did it happen this time? No, wait. Lemme guess. Bullet, right? Angry husband.”
I sat on the chair facing him – more like collapsed, to be precise. ‘Re-establishment,’ as I liked to call the procedure back then, was – and still is – a pain in the ass. Drained all my strength for a whole day. I barely had enough energy in me to reach out and snatch his cigarette. “Nah. Not how I died this time, man.”
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Published on July 17, 2016 06:54