The gap toothed man romoved the cigarette from his mouth and spat visciously on the ground. He kneeled next to the prone man's head. "Does it hurt?" He whispered sweetly. "You don't know what pain is yet." He gave the still figure an indifferent look and reached down. This was a haze. Complete bullshit. He reached for his coffee with one grimy hand and for relief with the other. His hand scrambled across the desk for the bottle like an independent being, searching for the elusive bottle. His probing fingers knocked something over and he heard his treasure rattle from within. He slapped his hand down in the direction of the bottle and sent it skittering across the desk on to the floor. He dropped to his knees and snatched it quickly, slamming it onto the table beside his head. The bottle cracked, and he dimly notced a piece of glass pierce his palm. A pill rolled lazily off the table towards him; he slapped his palms together, catching the pill between them. He turned his hands sideways and reached into his left hand with his right, and placed the blooky little pill on his tongue. He contemplated the taste, and paused before swallowing it. He walked out into the bleak city; he glanced up at the grey sky. The sky was always grey. He doubted there was a sun. He held the prone mans eyelid open and crushed his cigarette out in his iris. The yellow toothed man heard a sound and glanced up to see an alley cat slouching off with a meaty prize. The man on the ground had ceased to feel most of the pain already. His tongue had been cut out (was it hours ago, or just minutes? He wondered.) and his belly was now swollen from swallowing his blood and the pieces of his tongue that he was force fed. The yellow toothed man walked away and left him to die alone under the twisting grey sky. It spoke to her. She fancied it was in her head, bt nonetheless she heard its voice clearly. Her brain as seeping into withdrawal. She glanced out the window at the gey sky and slid on her coat. She grabbed her keys and started down the stairs. He leaned against the old brick library, watching the street. The pill pushers wandered up to unsuspecting strangers, trying to sell them their little miracle. He gave a slight nod of recognition towards an aquaintance heading towards him. The guy was nice enough, for a pill freak. The man crossing the street grinned wildly and waved his arms excitedly at him. "Did you hear the good news?" He shouted. The news was probably about the pill. It seemed that he, along with so many others, got so caught up in their drug use that it became their life. There was no day or night that they could not be found praising their pill for something.