The stars were conjoined, a shifty necklace above.

Around 3, Squirrel had squandered all his money and was experiencing the totality of drunken symptoms. He stumbled down cursory alleys, pummeling a 40. Felix was disregarded.

It was on some side street that the vagrant approached. The man’s face was caked in plaintive dirt, an ecosystem of filth. Deep crevices scorched his ruinous skin.
“You and I,” the vagrant began. “You and I, we are not so different except for the trifling inhibitions that license your species.”

Squirrel’s pulse was wailing. His back was to a wall.

The vagrant continued, “Persuade me now why I shouldn’t rob you of that indifference”