“Fuck I’m late.” I exposited.
I was running to work, my stupid car broke down. I hate cities. I hate that I had to move here. Stupid job. My suit was hot, why did this happen during the fucking summer?
I turned a corner and sprinted down the sidewalk, bumping some people along the way. I got called some nasty things but didn’t have time to apologize.
I turned another corner, the last street before my job, I had maybe five minutes left to make it. There was a crowd of people fawning at something. I grunted and just kept running.
As I made my way through the gathering crowd, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I stopped running to look down at blood running down my chest. A gaping bullet wound shining through my white undershirt.
“Oh.”
And the world went black.
I woke up later. Not in a hospital, but in someone’s apartment. It was shoddy, horribly decorated, and smelled awful. I was sitting on a secondhand couch that was torn to shreds from one thing or another.