Suki’s Unabridged Journey to the Train of Thought

It was on a summer night that Suki jumped out of that train and into that basement, not a winter one. She remembers the stale cigarette smell, still feels it scratching the back of her throat as she talks about it.

The rooms were filled with graffiti and brimming with loud music. Suki sashayed through the narrow, smoky corridors and crowds of people, every so often wiggling her hips to the rhythm of Guantanamera…

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