He looked down at the blood dripping from his fingers onto the wet tarmac. A voice said, somewhere, ...and there it is.
There was a quiet approval in those words he had longed to hear again for weeks now, but he couldn't quite remember why or who the voice belonged to. He remembered the face he saw at his feet though. He remembered the blue dress and the soft breasts.
As if a large hand was put on his shoulders, the hazy warmth of the drugs rolled over him again.
You did alright, son, the voice said and then all other memories faded.
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