Recently I took a vacation. To Las Vegas. I'm a whore for a good character. And let me tell you, Las Vegas is the place to go to meet some rich characters. Every dealer has a story. Every laughing, gambling couple. All the homeless on the streets. So much sad and luxury. So much kitsch and trend. My head buzzed, no... ached... with the cacophony of voices struggling to get free from closed mouths. Mouths with smiles pasted across lips even as their eyes betrayed them.
Poker chips and smoke. The smell of sour fruit embedded into carpets from spilled drinks. The desperate people standing beside the rich. Each roll of the dice meaning something different for each person.
Sometimes it hurts to be a writer. No. It hurts all the time.