Micro Monday: "Distant Heart"
He’ll get what he can while he’s still young, so for enough cash you can do whatever you want. The pile of singles he takes home from dancing at the Cabana every night won’t cover rent and payments on the Harmon-Kardon and some food, or dreams of the flatscreen he’ll probably never own.
No, he needs the fifty or hundred you give him for slipping into a shadowed alcove or more daringly the back alley, abandoning whatever pride and self-respect he still has. Ten indulgent minutes keeps him alive even while hastening his death. Hardening him, distant while seemingly intimate.