Monday, February 4, 2013

There are diamonds inside the cracks in the sand

He hardly allowed time for those things anymore. Parties. Dancing. Drinking wines, and smoking. Which was why it was all the more peculiar to find him passed out cold as stone, sprawled out on a cobbled walkway inside the city, sleep being the only guardian from a throbbing headache and the persistent urge to vomit. After waking, he found a shadow in an alleyway to throw up in, splashing remnants of last night on a perfectly good pair of shoes, an incident he used to remind himself why he didn't belong socializing with folks who have too much fun.

No comments:

Post a Comment