Kazimir’s chosen location ended up being in a grimy, narrow slit between two walls, barely big enough to be called an alleyway. The dumpster reeked, just like the rest of Hell’s Hollow. No wonder the kids called it Devil’s Butthole. He missed the smell of Samantha’s office already.
The wind roared in his ears when he removed his helmet after parking his bike. It rustled up his dark brown hair. The sun shined down on the artist as he unzipped the backpack dangling against his back. It contained all his precious spray paint cans.
Finding his ideal position was difficult, but he was always up for a challenge. That piece deserved to hit the heavens, so he hopped on top of the dumpster and climbed up the roof ladder attached to the bar. He always kept his grappling hook in his backpack in case he decided to spontaneously climb a building and spray paint, like today.
Once he got himself situated in the middle of the brick building, he directed the different colors against the wall to produce the realistic image of a dick. Kazimir planned to center the gangster’s face right in the middle. He couldn’t avenge Samantha by attacking Emmett, so he did the next best thing. He painted him as a dickhead.
Dark clouds covered the sky, shielding him far away from the truth. New Syracuse was drowning in mystery and misery. Kazimir was an outsider, but even he could tell there was something terribly wrong with the town. The gangs and drugs played a substantial piece, but no one was brave enough to venture closer to uncover the facts.
Kazimir shivered at the abrasive gust and clenched his spray can tighter. If he had known how windy it would be, he would have worn another hoodie. The gale only fought back harder and tried to pull him off the building, yanking his spray can from his hand.
Thankfully, he almost completed it before he lost the can. He wanted to make the balls bigger, but the small ones would have to suffice. He needed to get down before the wind blew him away.
He planted one foot precariously on the ladder then the other and unhooked himself from the building when he thought he was safe. The wind worsened as Kazimir tried to reach the bottom, but his left foot missed the next step. Instead of easing his way down gently, he dropped to the pavement below.
Kazimir’s life flashed before his own eyes as he fell. Was this how it all ended for him? He tried to prepare himself for the excruciating death of busting his head open on the concrete below when rugged arms reached out and caught him. When the wooziness faded, Kazimir realized there was someone under him and quickly rolled off.
His golden hair resembled a halo and his eyes were a heavenly spring-green shade. Kazimir reached down to stroke his cheek, watching his lips curl in confusion at his touch.
Was it forbidden to touch angels? Kazimir wondered.
“Are you here to take me away from this horrible life?” Kazimir asked him.
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