大象传媒

The streets are dark; there is no one there except one. Standing there, near the alleyway, under the shady light of the lamppost. You walk over, he looks at you and he says 芒聙聹you here for the____芒聙聺. Your ears blank out the word, like you never want anyone to know. But when you try to speak no words come out, so you just nod. He replies back by looking from side to side, like he芒聙聶s checking to see if anyone is coming, then leaning over and holding his hand out. His hands are rough, full of cuts and blisters as if he has been tortured, in the palm of his hand lies a little box, wrapped in plain grey paper and no detail, sides still smooth as it had just been wrapped. You reach over to take it, but stop half way and think to yourself, you ask yourself questions like will I regret this芒聙娄芒聙娄or will I not? But you say it芒聙聶s too late and take the box, but in exchange for all the money that is in your pocket. You get the money out and hold your hand out. He takes prepares to take it but first he looks left and right again, then reaches over and snatches the money and runs. He runs and runs and doesn芒聙聶t look back, within seconds he disappears.