They do not even glimpse at his fathomless eyes as they graze over his person with hands like vultures. Bits of gold and paper flutter into ragged pockets as their eyes continually search for a beast in the shadows. Even within the trio they are wary of the company of the others, but dare not express it, as it would surely put them in the place of their present expedition.
So instead they work quickly and silently, gaining all they can from another’s misfortune. Scourging all worth from mere flesh and blood, they slink away — leaving only the shadow of what once resembled a human being.
The suit that clothes Him is sodden from a night’s rain, and the golden hair was once plastered to His forehead with sweat. Small lacerations cover his very being, yet yield no comparison to the bruises ’round his neck — the pitiful end to his ruined existence. The powder for which he gave his life left with his previous company, with the only things he felt had worth. Car keys, diamonds, and cocaine. Remnants still ringed his nose and red orbs still ringed his eyes. The gnarled fingers which once held cigarette after cigarette now curled near his liver, which had been plagued with constant alcohol abuse. A new love found, it was merely a topic of time that kept him from his lonesome demise.
A siren wails nearby like a child left alone for too long. In a circle of lamplight his bare foot shows, stripped of it’s Italian leather. The walk between stone giants proved to be his final haven, welcoming him in his native, nude form. Children we are born, and like children we die — naked, scared, and alienated. Yet no matter how primitive or brutal an end may be, a body is always of value. For every vulture knows the street value of a good, fresh corpse.