Written by Georgina Kamsika
Read by Rachel Beveridge
Fluffed up blonde hair, baby blue eyes and lips red like the cherry she still has, Britney’s working that street corner like she’s been doing it for years. Fifteen going on twenty, she has the pimps wrapped around her finger so we can stake out this spot no trouble. My best friend since infant school, she’s always been the leader, she doesn’t feel the fear that crawls in my gut. She sticks out a skinny hip and wiggles at a lone car as it cruises past, swinging her bulky shoulder bag like a flag.
The streetlight flickers, illuminating the broken down houses, the street littered with rubbish. Peeling posters decorate the brick walls, photos of missing children with lank hair and dead eyes. A black triangle symbol is sprayed over them, a red five inside the shape.
Another car crawls past, slithering like a slug, the driver not liking what we’re selling. Rainbow neon disguises the colour, but not the age. Rust drips, a geriatric skin disease. Everything here is old, except us.
Theme music Balrog Boogie by Diablo Swing Orchestra (http://jamendo.com/)
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