“Love makes the World go round, baby!”
His smile was like liquorice in my head. I hated liquorice.
“Love’s also a bitch.”
The trigger offered no resistance when I pulled it. A gunpowder orgasm mixed a a cocktail of noise and lighting that filled the room. Grey and red painted a Pollock on the far brick wall.
One second my revulsion made man, the next, a crumpled dead thing on the floor. His face looked better now. The neon buzzing outside the room’s window drilled my head after the ringing in my ears stopped.
Saturday evening and nowhere to go. Love kills, baby.