Kitterkay

He was sitting on the street, clutching his side like a mother would her child’s hand. His eyes flickered from wide to small Kelly-green slits beneath his broken glasses. The only thing holding those together on the bridge of his bruised and bloodied nose was the sheer thought of ‘I don’t have insurance.’ . He sighed, and with a sharp pain that whined from his left kneecap Jeff could tell something had gone terribly wrong with it, but he simply didn’t have nerve to look at it now. He cocked his head slightly, straw colored side-comb askew. He heard soft footsteps, if he hadn’t of been so absorbed in his o