Mementos from Sufrida Street: Regular Saturday Night

I was walking down Sufrida street as night cleared my path; there was no sound save the gnawing of my thoughts. Flame and tobacco met. I inhaled and released ash into the air. I had become a night dragon, waiting for the hour of dawn to come. My watch signaled 3 o’clock, we had agreed at midnight. She would never come. The trace of smoke left my mouth as sirens wailed in the distance; I simply smiled, just another Saturday night at Sufrida street.


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