I took a long drag off of my Maverick, noticing the thick dirt under my fingernails, which was getting bad even for me. I flicked my cigarette a few feet in front of me and wiped my hands on my equally as dirty jeans, fully knowing that action wouldn’t do fuck all. I reached into my pocket, glanced in all directions to make sure no one had followed me under the bridge, and started counting the money I had just ripped off the rich, cocaine addicted Yale kids. Desperate idiots.

One hundred, two hundred, three hun—

THUNK!

Everything began to go gray and then black, but not before I saw the crisp hundred dollar bills fall to the ground.