Mementos from Sufrida Street: Alleyways

A beat, a step, a scream. It ended before anyone noticed; a man stabbed in a dark alley. Another victim of Sufrida street. She’s as unforgiving as she is seductive, attracting predator and prey alike to its decadent, but vibrant, nightlife of sights and sounds. But the alleyways, stay out of those, they’re the dark and dirty veins which trace a hidden map across Sufrida street. Where the wretched, the abandoned and refused gather to eat the scraps thrown by those slightly more fortunate than them. Dangerous to step into an alley as a local tenant, suicide if you’re an outsider. That’s whom the corpse on the grimy and smelly ground belongs too. Some nobody from nowhere who turned around the wrong corner. A cop lazily traces a chalk outline around the corpse while thinking with reluctance of the long night shift and the cold dinner waiting at home. Paperwork and body bags for the men in blue, a random body for the people in the alleys, and for the crowd in the street, just noise. The night simply follows along.

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