#rustmarty

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

“I had this premonition, ‘round twenty-two. Couldn't sleep, god knows what hour but it was dark. One of those nights where all you can do is stare at the ceiling and let your mind wander. Hit me like a vision. Clear as day, I felt the clock start, counting down the days until I surrender to oblivion.”

Rust lifts the glass to his eye line, appraising its contents. Just the half-melted ice left. He watches it for a second, then those dark eyes turn to Marty. “If you’re asking, then I guess that’s why. Hard to stay in any one moment when you know life’s chasing you down.”

He tips the glass to his lips and pours what remains of the ice cubes down his throat, and Marty can see the muscles of his neck contract as he swallows. Something distant and elegant about it.

“Jesus, Rust. Y’know most twenty-two year olds have better ways of spending the early hours of night.”

He seems disappointed. “Just delaying the inevitable.”