I think it was raining. There were clouds that's for sure. But I think it was raining. I don't know, I'm not sure of anything. May be I imagined the whole thing. It's fuzzy. Blurred visual memories. It smelled like rain though. That dewy meadowy smell. Charged with copper fragrances. Or may be it's just my brains playing tricks on me. Damn booze! Gets me every time. My life is a sequence of ethered pictures, foggy images, muffled voices. The smells. The smells only make pretty accurate memories.
I defenitely remember the wet smell of the alley. The copper sents as well. What does that mean. Blood? Damn booze! Gets me every time. A sequence of sequences. I'm a wreck. Pull yourself together Jack. The rain. Focus. The copper smell. Focus.
The powder does smell. But not when it rains. The rain drains the powder fumes to the ground and the sewers. Still this distinctive copper fragrance. Focus. A back alley. Focus. A pipe may be. A pipe made of copper? But they stopped using copper for pipes in 1958. The city updated most of the pipe network in the late 80's. Or did they? Another money laundry scam maybe? You're onto something Jack. Focus. That rain will never stop. The noise of the drops crashing on the ground cracks my brains.
Never trusted that republican mayor. How big a scam is that pipe business? You have your story Jack. It's gonna be big. The rain will stop, out of the tunnel now. It's your big break Jack. Pull yourself together and nail that bastard's ass for once and for good. Save this city. Make a name for yourself. Focus. Your dignity Jack. You owe it to yourself.
One last wiskey. One last wiskey and I'm on it.
One last wiskey.
Garcon!
