Marcus Climpson

The Traffic Warden

Miniature diamonds glistening in the street lamps aura. Cascading over the already dark tarmac, making it glummer. Appropriate for the night that has been cast upon Ethan. As the crystals relentlessly hound the pavement, constructing their own riverways, one stream appears unique against all the others. You would believe it was Sierra Leone with all the blood congealing and diluting into the liquid jewels running into the drains abyss.