Gravel tastes a lot like blood, I think to myself as he is walking away now.
Steel-toe boots had left the final mark as they broke a rib.
The hit to the gut had brought me to the ground.
A right hand blow to the jaw married tooth and cheek.
I had squinted as the first glove covered fist closed in on it’s mark.
Standing before the little man cocky as hell with a dumb grin on my face.
The man hadn’t said a word in reply, his expression blank, indifferent.
I’m not sure why I called him a pussy.