Aftermath

A snippet of cyberpunk.

The light above flickered harsh in the cracked mirror, Breef stared at his clouded mugshot. The blood ran down his face from the gash over his eye, mottling his vision with a stinging red. //05.17.23/

Tasting the metal in the back of his throat, Breef spat into the sink. There was a tinny clatter as a couple of teeth hit the bowl. //05.17.27/

His grubby fingers picked up his old molar. //05.17.28/

;Not going to need you anymore, bud. //05.17.31/

Breef opened the fridge door, the cold light and the cold air smarting his face. He rummaged around, found a half-empty bottle of milk and took a swig. //05.22.01/

His bandaged brow furrowed into a frown. //05.22.02/

Breef understood why the milk tasted off. The body of the roach had just come to the surface of the bottle's contents, its tiny legs flailing wildly. //05.22.04/

;S**t.

Author's Note

Experiments with timestamp.

I've continued my tendency to dictate speech with semi-colons over from Slick Thames, although this is not necessarily part of its canon. We shall wait and see.