Broken shards of glass littered the space below the bridge. Accidental blood from my throwing hand dripped down and barely covered the half torn labels that struggled to hang on to their factory-attached fixtures.
While the rest of the city slept under a starry summer sky, the space I occupied remained silent except for the inebriated voices mingling in my head and the sound of shattered revelry that was loud enough to ignore any voice of reason.
BLONDE ON BLONDE 