The Mouth Under the Bridge
Nov 2 · 12 min read
I check my phone again. It’s 11:02pm on a cold Tuesday night as Orest’s 92 Riviera swings around the corner and started towards my street. That’s when it really sank in. This was really happening. I was going to kill someone tonight.

I used to love Orest’s Buick. It was his first car and he was my first friend to have a car. We would ride around in it on the weekends trying to pick up girls, smoke some weed while…

