The burning sensation of the beverage lingered in my throat as I walked the city’s desolate streets. It was a cold, dark night, with only occasional flashes of light from the flickering, barely functional streetlights. As I trudged along, I noted the lifelessness of the town; the buildings were empty, bare, and as dark as the night itself. Decaying, with nary a window left unboarded, most businesses had left the city as crime increased. The drug-fueled gang-violence had been quite a scourge on the town. Tension gripped me, as I kept a firm hold of the small gun I kept with me, having purchased it after fighting off a crafty pickpocket attempting to filch my wallet. It was foolish to walk these streets alone, an axiomatic truth; the crime had been fractious at best, and absolutely unbearable at worst. After a few years, the police force had all but given up, having been reduced to a mere fraction of its former self. I continued my walk, doing my best to ignore the pungent odor I had come to associate with the slums.
