Kiss The Blood Off My Hands

It was half past midnight so I lit another cigarette and waited for the next bus to come in. There was always a next bus. The guy I was looking for wasn't heeled well enough to take the train, so I knew this was his only other option. He would be alone and probably wouldn't be carrying much luggage. My contact had told me he always carried a gat, so separating it from him would be the first thing on the agenda. The second thing was personal. He'd spill what had happened to Mabel or maybe I'd have to beat some sense into him until he saw the wisdom of telling me what I wanted to hear. Oh, yeah.... this time it was my own personal score to settle. The rest would fall into place then I could wrap this case up. My name is Steve Randall and most of the time it was worth the $35 a day I charged. I hadn't decided yet if this case would turn out to be worth that kind of money or not.

 

I lit another cigarette and waited for another bus to roll in.

 

Notes:

This was a self-portrait, using all my own props. The cigarette wasn't real - it was just a round pencil with white typing paper wrapped around it.

Done