Mark sat down in the back of the small apartment with his hands clenched together. He looked over at the digital clock hanging on the wall over a worn leather sofa. Everything he has was worn and second-hand.
It was a quarter after two.
He rubbed his face and laid his head back against the wall. A large sigh exhales from his body reveals the nerves in his stomach.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he s...