Hold On

“Shit, I think this guy is dead,” Lion says, referring to the guy lying next to him. He moves him a bit, and from the way he doesn’t react, I think he’s right.

“Leave him there, you idiot,” I complain. “He died on his own; it’s not your problem. But this right here IS your problem… you owe me five hundred dollars.”

“What? Why?” he asks and stops touching the dead guy to get up and approach me. Now he smells three times worse, “You only lost some vegetables.”

“And my favorite beers and my yogurt, which costs fifty dollars,” I complain, clenching my hands into fists. It’s what has hurt me the most about the super-inflation, I can’t even enjoy fucking yogurt. Lion’s mouth falls open as if he can’t believe a simple thing costs that much, “It’s all those werewolves’ fault… and why the hell are they chasing you so much, by the way? They said you stole something.”

Lion rolls his eyes.

“Right,” he mutters. “I saw a burger on a table and thought it had no owner, so I ate it. Suddenly