Sounds seep into the store whenever someone leaves. Humid air and chatter fills the store for a few moments, mingling with the tunes playing from the stereo. The police are searching a couple of young girls out the front of the adult shop next door - pulling little bags of ecstasy from their little bags. They are led away, the walk of shame up the strip to the station.
It's quiet in here, apart from the music and the tapping of digits on keyboards. Through the glass I can feel the street jitter, see a little blood in the air while the predators circle and a million hungry and not-so-tropical fish swim with the tide, poking around for food on the ocean floor.
A couple leave, off to join the merry throng, off and lost amongst the dishevelled royalty, the blank-faced prostitutes, the drunk brutes, the jokers and the clowns, the drag queens and porn kings.
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