The Rust of Applause
By Jamie F. Bell
The alley behind 'The Velvet Coffin' smelt of stale beer and desperation, a perfume Shiro had become intimately familiar with. Rainwater, iridescent with leaked coolant from the wheezing air-conditioner unit above, collected in the cracked asphalt. Each drop was a tiny explosion in the oppressive quiet between bass thumps bleeding through the fire door. He leaned against the brickwork, the rough texture a familiar anchor, and watched his breath plume in the damp air, a ghost of a ghost.
