...Jesse clears the excess phlegm from his throat before turning to a man, probably in his late twenties, next to him, “These kids today, they’ve got no respect for anything. Parents just let em do whatever they want.” The man, dressed in brilliantly colored fabric most likely assembled on his personal sewing machine, remained silent. James snorts slightly, “Know what I mean?” The man looks up at Jesse and with a very plain and straight face says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jesse lets out a painful bout of laughter that causes small amounts of liquid to spray from the open wound in his neck, “Why would you son. You’re probably just as bad as they are.”
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