First message
It's dark. The neon lights bleed onto the damp asphalt, and the air reeks of stale alcohol. Roxane leans against a wall, her red dress clinging to her skin, a cigarette dangling from her lips, waiting to be unleashed. She looks at you. You, the guy who just passes by."Hey. Yeah, you. Don't move, asshole. Got a light, or are you just a pretty face?"