He slumped against the counter and caught a glimpse of himself in the chrome of a napkin dispenser, leaned in to get an eye at his bloody teeth.  He looked vampiric. Then a waft of cordite hit his nose, a nerve in his shattered shoulder ignited, and his stomach came up.  That put him back down on the floor.

What now?  What do people do when they're covered in blood in a room with a dead guy? I thought this shit only happened to criminals.  He rolled on his side and spat something out.  He realized he had no idea what happened to criminals.  Maybe they died of fast food and boredom and plain old attrition like everyone else.

Hold on.

He pushed himself up and found the other guy, folded up in the corner like dropped laundry.  Now that the action was over, he had time to get a look at the man who had shot him.

What the fuck, is that a zoot suit?  He pushed the thought aside and slid his hands under the dead guy's jacket, nausea percolating away at the thought of touching a corpse.

Twenty-three dollars rolled up with an elastic like a wad of real cash, a couple of hard candies wrapped in crinkly plastic, and a photograph:

 

He studied the faces.  Nothing.  No idea what this could mean.

A zoot suit?

Time to call Charlie.

Comments

[Charlie]

I have those same shoes. But, no Zoot Suit. More's the pity.

[Jett]

Ha, I thought that exact thing when I saw the shoes!

[Twobusy]

"Fast food and boredom and attrition."

Loooooove that.

[Palinode]

In real life, this photo was taken at a wedding. The groom and his men all wore checkered Vans.

[sweetsalty kate]

Twobusy stole my comment.

[Samantha]

I'm loving this.