DROP SIX
Diego scratched the scabs on his arms. He could almost hear his mother’s voice telling him to stop that, but he carried on, making them bleed.
He couldn’t help it when jonesing like that.
Swinging on the balls of his feet, he waited in the alley. It was dark and he couldn’t see s**t. He searched his pockets for he trusty flashlight. It took him far too long to realise that he’d sold it the day before. Traded it for a single line of coke. He needed that line.
He scratched his scabs through his sleeve.
Where was that damn Ukrainian? The dude was shady as f**k and didn’t treat Diego well, but he was always on time. Punctuality was a weird positive characteristic of all good mafiosos. If you didn’t come on time, people got anxious and pulled their piece out.
Itchy trigger finger
