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About Swords

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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I finish my lunch and decide to take a stroll. I wander down to the Donaghmede Village. It’s got that old-school charm, you know? I pop into a few shops, and I’m just vibing. I even find a cool vintage tech store. I’m in heaven!

Death Notice of Francis, Frank Johnston (Donaghmede, Dublin)