Zem Vymes
Nov 23rd, 2005, 12:00:19 AM
Monday morning rolled around, and I kicked myself out of bed, and out of the arms of whoever she was. I seem to recall her name being Charlene, but the whore said she was a virgin so I took it with a grain of salt.
She was cold. Ice cold.
Blue powder on the nose.
Same powder on mine. I stumbled into the hovel's washroom, spritzed my face clean, gave the rest of me a smuggler's bath, combed my hair and donned my suit.
All except for the shoes. I'd stolen those. Didn't feel like keeping them.
As I contemplated another day on bare feet, I couldn't help but look at her again. Couldn't be older than nineteen, and she'd taken my money, my time, and my drugs. Now she was dead. A ship passing in the night done run aground.
I wanted to feel sympathy or sadness, but only found anger. Anger that she'd found me, and I didn't even stop long enough for reverie to kick in.
I took the money I'd given her the night before, took her identification card from her purse, and headed out the door, kissing my bare feet on the cold Nar Shadaa asphalt.
I figured this dead whore'd be too much dead weight on my back. Time to find somebody who'd cry for her.
She was cold. Ice cold.
Blue powder on the nose.
Same powder on mine. I stumbled into the hovel's washroom, spritzed my face clean, gave the rest of me a smuggler's bath, combed my hair and donned my suit.
All except for the shoes. I'd stolen those. Didn't feel like keeping them.
As I contemplated another day on bare feet, I couldn't help but look at her again. Couldn't be older than nineteen, and she'd taken my money, my time, and my drugs. Now she was dead. A ship passing in the night done run aground.
I wanted to feel sympathy or sadness, but only found anger. Anger that she'd found me, and I didn't even stop long enough for reverie to kick in.
I took the money I'd given her the night before, took her identification card from her purse, and headed out the door, kissing my bare feet on the cold Nar Shadaa asphalt.
I figured this dead whore'd be too much dead weight on my back. Time to find somebody who'd cry for her.