I rub my hands together like a lion licks its tongue when the prey is in sight and down those shots like a walk through the children’s playground. The other attendees look at me in amazement. I must look like Superman in their eyes. Either that or they must think my whole family died in a third world crisis or something.
A black sky and no stars, something I’m accustomed to seeing. Fire escapes, garbage cans, dumpsters, dirty gold windows with beige blinds allowing the light from an age-old lamp to shine through. I see it all the time. Another thing I’m accustomed to seeing is my legs sprawled like I’d been jumped by gang members and stripped clean.