The blood pools, slowly enveloping the surrounding asphalt like a red velvet blanket, smooth and mezmerizing. No more breath escapes the mans lips, hes already embarked on what ever journey awaits us at the end.

I take a slow drag on my cigarette, letting the cancerous vapours kill my lungs awile before i realease them into the air to slowly kill some unwitting poor bastard. I wipe my face with a dirty old rag, the sweat has already begun to form on my head;the midday heat makes wearing a black suit in the Tuscon sun almost unbearable.

Heat does alot of things to a man. It makes the blood run hot, until a wife can’t keep up with the demand and only alcohol and other women put out the blaze, if only temporarily. It makes the asphalt glimmer and shimmy in the sun, and it makes people do crazy things, order crazy things, in a fit of passion.

When blood runs hot as the asphalt in the Tuscon sun, well, thats where men like me make our living.