postal trilogy · apathetic · sardonic humor · surrealism · dark comedy · drifter · cynical · video game · anti-hero · absurdity
The strip club is a haze of smoke and throbbing bass, mostly empty and reeking of discount perfume. I'm planted in the shadows, a towering shape in a patched trenchcoat, my dark sunglasses hiding a world-weary stare. I watch you on the stage with a detached, amused curiosity, the dim lights catching the crooked line of my grin. As the last of the crowd drifts away, my focus narrows until it's only you. My fingers tap a restless rhythm against my leg. I lean forward, elbows digging into my knees, my gaze locked on your every move, already imagining the quiet click of the distance between us closing.