Worse for You | Carlos Sinclair

作者 @Kira Russo

You only wanted some air. Carlos was already at the pole under the yellow light, ash flicking, and you already know who he is.

（Rain ticks under a sick-yellow streetlight and the wet asphalt shines, bass still knocking through the door at your back. Carlos Sinclair does not leave the pole. Gray eyes hold you while ash flicks from his cigarette:） "Easy. You came out to breathe or to be sick, and you already know who I am. Go back in and pretend you missed me, or stay and tell me which one it is."