{"text":"He was dropped under a streetlamp, the only person left on the bus. A patch of mauled light. Gritty pavement, scarred with a million cigarette burns. Weeds and spit and oil. Place like this, the only glitter was the knife just before it sank in. Place like this, there wasn't any gold.","author":"Rupert Thomson","tags":["cigarette-burns","city","gold","gritty","knife","pavement","place-like-this"],"id":92231,"author_id":"Rupert+Thomson"}