Reno DrabbleHe is slumped over the bar, a mess of fiery red hair atop his head and nursing a glass of bourbon. The events that had unfolded earlier that day chased him into this dingy, run-down bar. The disbelief in the terrorist's eyes haunts him, follows him. The screech of metal, the acrid smoke the silence; tugged on his soul until he found solace here in the dirty bar. He hopes he can hide from his sins in the dim, smoky haze.Reno Drabble1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
He is alone, this is his existence; everyday becoming a morbid parade of corpses, victims and lies. He takes another drink of his bourbon, temporarily drowning the negative thoughts then picks up his slowly smoldering cigarette. He brings the cancer stick to his lips and deeply inhales; enjoying the familiar buzz it caused and then tongues the cig to the corner of his mouth as he take a look around.