Picture this.
City.
Nighttime.
A narrow street near the river, the
buildings on each side close and tall.
The paving cobbled.
You are upstream from the bar, you are sleeping.
It’s 2.28 am.
Most people are sleeping.
Most.
But not Andrew.
Nor David.
Nor Nico.
Only three of them?
It sounded like 300.
How can it take so long, so SO long for
three drunks to walk past this non-double glazed window?
I think Andrew was lying on the ground
somewhere, David was steaming ahead and Nico only of capable of staggering
sideways, effectively staying in one spot and repeatedly crashing into the
waste bins.
Their only way to communicate was screams.
I’m not a violent man.
But.
If I had had a gun under my pillow……
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