’weakness gets you killed’, he’d say. the day she stopped being the player was the day she got played. she didn’t have to know what had occurred to suffer her own personal onslaught of insecurities.

she went to reach for another cigarette, and realized she’d left them in the coin purse. thunder sounded overhead, and before her taxi arrived, it was raining. she cursed and tried to huddle closer to the inches-wide overhang of the roof, but she was still dampened by the time her ride arrived some minutes later. yeah, she was lucky, alright.

she eyed the driver untrustingly at first, and was met with a tired look of indifference that read that they were at the end of their shift and didn’t care who she was, what she looked like, or who she’d just killed. satisfied with the unspoken promise of a silent drive, she slumped back against the musty nylon and watched out a leaking window.