Sunday, February 20, 2011

Stock in Trade

“Not your night.” He takes a long drag.

I shrug. “Dreamers got the mark first.”

“You’re slow.” It’s a warning.

Can’t let my nerves show. “I’ll get the next one.”

“Best had.”

I follow the stench of copper. Iron, too. Ahead, a boy pushes a girl up against the wall. She doesn’t resist. I wrap myself around them, my shape their shape, their breath my breath. They topple, fall.

I hold their essence in my mouth until Shadow arrives.

“Girl tasted bitter.” He knows I swallowed the boy.

“Girls always do.”

He smiles. “Only some.”

Definitely not my night.

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