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Short Story: Detective, Hunter

He exhales smoke from his nose, meditating on the length of ash that extends past the filter of the cigarette in his stained hands. Finally returning from his mental sojourn he taps the ash into the ashtray before crushing out the cigarette. The throbbing beat that he can feel in his bones calls his attention back to the stage.

Some young waif is covering her chest while collecting the dollars on the stage the unwashed perverts had thrown at her.

On some nights he’d be one of those unwashed perverts. Tonight he was on duty.

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