i'm expecting things to go the usual way. This guy is one of the street-level dealers that sell the product and then report to their managers. Most days I only speak to them to make sure they're eating. Once or twice a month I'll stop by with a sandwhich and some beer, and I'll check for the usual signs.
Most dealers have that familiar blue stain on the end of their fingers. but once it starts creeping past their palm i know it's only a matter of time before they start coming up short on their collections. i only let them ask me for a loan once, and then i stop coming around.
tonight is the inevitable result of that path. sometimes they;ll offer their belongings. once they're out of those, they'll offer something other than money. occasionally they'll go on the run. unfortunately for most vermin under the subways, there isn't anywhere that the rat king can't reach. tonight, he's sent in his favourite dog.
i've been sent on the hunt for someone who ripped their manager off for fifty thousand coins, plus the fifty they'd already put into a needle for the past two years. i know the story. i've seen it a thousand times before. it's a well worn path, treaded by many who thought that they could be the exception. just a taste, they say. just on weeknds, they reassure. just to feel well, they cry. just to stay alive.
so i've come to take what's left of the bones. they'll beg and cry and bargain, but that time has passed. i am the payment, i've come to collect.
until then, i watch the car lights on the pavement.