Sad Day
Crime Fiction By Dick Johnson
It was a sad day in a house full of assholes, and I was dying. It wasn’t always sad, like it wasn’t always daytime, but they were probably always assholes.
It was a house in St. Louis. It was one of those slum houses. I’d tell you where, but no one really cares. It was a crack house and I had gone there for a buy.
