An flink eye followed the river down his bed. Down the line, towards the something big. This eye in particular wasn’t in the best mood, a bit drunk to be honest, but who isn’t these days.
The eye took, with his shaking fingers and therefore litte clumsy a cigarette outa the package. Fire. Light. Red. Smoke. Done. Watching the day breaking in the second half- the dark one. The one which prepares you for the lightening part. Or should do so.

After the third punch in the face the eye was wondering if this happens right then right him. The first punch is always kind of heeey, this isn’t me. This punch wasn’t directed in my belly. Pain? Wow! Couln’t *hmpf* be. OUCH
The second punch is mainly the one when the eye recognizes, something is completely going wrong. When pain comes all over. Second-straight on the nose. FUCKING HELL. PAIN AND BLOOD. SHIT.
Third. Forth. The eye went to the ground.
Feet in the face. Belly. Took ages of minutes. Then it was over. Money gone. Drink. Gone. Phone. Gone. Tasted of sweet metal in the mouth. Warm, painful shit.

The river didn’t gave a shit.
It was such a wonderful night.
Not even to cold. At this winterly time.

Fuck on them. Fuck them all.
The eye spit blood on the floor. What the fuck. No money for any train. Took fourty minutes home. Sweet home. Beer and wine left. And a mirror which said you look shit today.

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