I waited until he had gone around the corner before I turned my pocket inside out and dumped the dozen or so inch long cigarette butts onto the sidewalk. I crossed the street and walked through the hotel lobby and up to my room without speaking to anyone.

The perspiration had dried out of the shirt and it clung to my chest like shrink wrap. I peeled it off and took it into the cool shower with me to try to rinse some of the sweat out of it. I got out of the shower without drying off, letting the water drops evaporate in an attempt to cool myself.

Henry was right, this place was becoming more and more like a prison cell every day, and I was becoming a model prisoner, never banging my cup on the bars or burning toilet paper in protest against my condition, but accepting it, more and more every day. I felt like this room was beating me the same way it must have beaten the others who lived here before. I stepped around the noose and opened the window, letting the sounds of the street fill my silent cell.

1 Evan mentions he got his supplies from Sierra Chemical Co. he probably means Sierra Color and Chemical on North Coolidge Ave.

3

I cleaned off the bed and sat out my equipment for the night's work ahead: black leather jacket, black leather gloves, black high top sneakers, and a green, army surplus rucksack. I hadn't worn the jacket or the gloves since the last job four months ago, work clothes.

The Necropolis was closed when I arrived. I continued wandering in the area around the club looking for empty liquor bottles in the alleys. I found four intact bottles and made my way to a liquor store for my final items: a large bottle of cheap vodka and two packs of generic cigarettes. I put the full bottle in the rucksack next to the empties and put the generics in my jacket pocket.

There was already a short line in front of the bar when I turned the corner. I walked to the head of the line and nodded to the doorman as I went inside.

The club was almost empty when I stepped in. The only sounds inside were of the band setting up their equipment and the clinking of glasses as the bartenders prepared for a busy night. I walked over the black painted concrete floor to the empty back bar. Gently sitting my rucksack down on the frosted glass, I waited for Henry. The blue neon lights underneath the glass were off and the bar looked to be in a state of complete disarray compared to the other larger one. I turned around on my stool to look for Henry at the other side of the dance floor. A steady stream of people poured in and all of the small round tables at the edge of the dance floor were already full.