“What’s taking him so f*****g long?” I’ve just been smoking a cigarette as I stood next to a rundown warehouse, its doors closed and a rich, thickly heavy smell coming behind its closed doors. I crushed the cigarette under my foot once it was short enough. I reached into my pocket for another cigarette, but then remembered that I was out. “Just f*****g great.” I go towards a man slumped on the ground, stood down, and started feeling his pockets if he had any cigarettes. His black suit looking expensive with the smell of cologne, smoke, and blood mixed in it. I open his suit jacket to start checking in his coat, coming face to face with a white dress shirt heavily soaked in blood and bullet holes. My only attention is finding a cigarette for me to smoke, my hands and clothes already b****y.
