a man dies in the cold. rotten luck.

ohh. am i shot?

the snow capped concrete is thick, it crunched, same as a foot stepping, when i fell into it. i heard the bang. heard the crunch, felt the fall. i remember everything leading up to, remembering the falling, remember it all. but i cannot remember if there was a bullet entering my body.


my wife had just been caught, f*****g another man. they just stood there, his dick still wedged in her. i hadn't cared too much to be honest, i had expected her and some other guy since before the ring went on her finger.

i slipped on my coat and out the door, almost forgetting the harsh winter outside. the kind where the bitter flurries blew sideways cause of the wind. it bit at the tip of my nose, and ate through the wool of my coat, and tore away at my arms and tendons.

walking down the alley over to my ride, some a*****e wanted the money that wasnt in my wallet, and pulled out some shiny steel, and pressed the barrel against my forehead. i slapped his hand away as i ran. and then i heard the rattle.

now i'm lying here, working desperately to remember whether i was shot.

so cold. numb even. cant feel myself lieing here. where was i before this?
ohh yeah i was...wait...

was i home or..?



...