the man stood in the alley just outside an often overlooked building on the wrong side of the tracks . his hands dripped with blood , whether it was his or someone else's no one knew for sure .
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a few minutes later a crowd of mostly drunk men left through the front of the building , yelling and laughing as they headed off to the bar or homes .
though the man still stood , lightly rubbing his knuckles , and eventually unwrapped the red strip of cotton from his hands , only to replace it with fresh bandages , though those too soon turned red .
eventually , he leaned against the wall , and sunk down to the pavement , letting his head drop to his hands .
