Jerry often found himself worrying about things. His teeth were aching; his parents lived in a mansion; he was becoming increasingly aware of his asymmetrical face. Little things plagued his mind. So when Claire asked him what he thought of himself, he was a little taken aback.
"Wait... what do you mean?"
She didn't bother answering. Instead took a drag of her cigarette. Her coat was mink; so was the hat.
They stood next to a park bench. Jerry would have loved to sit, but he didn't want to get his pants wet -- it had rained earlier in the day. Instead, he stood and looked over the horizon.
"The skyline's pretty from here. It look impressive with the bridges in the backgr--"
Claire interrupted him.
"You know you live in a shithole, right?"
"Cleveland's actually pretty clean."
"But this isn't what you expected." She meant it as a statement.
"No."
Claire was right. Cleveland's skyline was mediocre. A fitting place.
"The offer still stands."
"Things haven't really changed on my front."
"Cash a bit tight?"
How did she know that?
"I stopped by your place. Neighborhood's unpleasant. The apartment's painted the color of vomit. Anyways, I need you to move some weight. The second offer was just a formality."
Things were starting to move a little too fast for Jerry. Drugs had never been his thing. Claire knew that.
He fell into the bench behind him. Claire continued to stand.







"Things didn't turn out how you wanted?"


It was Christmas. The mood was just right.

"Claire sounds like a young name... you look old."

Your forty years old. You at least need a kitchen."

Jerry liked watching the l

"Forget the skyline, Jerry. I want to show you something."

I want to write a book about this kid.

"How'd you even get here?" Jerry sat alone by a river.
"Not important"
The genie was blue.
"I've never really thought about it, really. Can I touch you?"