Interlude
“There’s no more left,” Louie said.
“What about the seran wrap?”
“We finished it off?”
“But how could we of? I only got one hit.”
”This stuff goes fast.”
The Chinese woman was still lying face down on her mattress. She hadn’t moved in three hours. Lethe and Louie were arguing in whispers. The room held the bitter stench of narcotics.
”There’s got to be more left,” Lethe said.
“There’s nothing. It’s all gone.”
