Whisky
WHISKY
elbows on the bar, a glass of whiskey tavern better hands. The ice floated rhythmically between the amber liquid. But James did not notice the taste of alcoholic drinks while down his throat. In fact to months not noticed anything.
loss of their most precious he had become a zombie, a lone cowboy hidden under a hat of leather tanning in Texas used to say.
had been there hours - or so I thought - maybe it was days or only minutes, the space-time no longer existed. Life does not exist.
His eyes were not green or blue, wore a dull gray and hazy, like the murky water left in the bucket after washing. And all I felt in detail were the wings that was tattooed on his back. One by one each pen was burning as if they were filming the fire with a hot iron that Jacob used * to mark cattle ranch in the West **.
bit off with the sob that total density had risen by the throat, now caught between your teeth, under the tongue.
- Today there are more James tears - he said aloud to himself quietly, and took another sip of whiskey.
lit a cigar, zippo seemed elusive in his trembling fingers. He had eyes fixed on him, the boy walked slowly and gracefully took the seat next to her ass.
- For the next if I want to subject you to the burner.
- I'm not dead yet - not even articulated minimally head spin.
- I would say that you lack some cowboy. Although if you want, I can revive yourself.
- What makes you think you do not want to go to another neighborhood?
- Nothing, but I do not want you to die, it would be a waste, that body ...
- Get out - angry but his voice sounded really had not taken any voice outside monotony - Let me consume me in peace.
- Self-pity?
- Why? I have nothing, not even I stay to myself.
finished the glass of a drink and got up a jump, but slowly. Leave a note on the bar and walked with one hand on the belt, with the thumb between the leather and denim.
