Old man winter packed a punch, like my ex. The one who left me with a pocket full of broken promises and a fractured jaw. "You'll be fine, Baby," he said as if he meant it.

But that was six months ago, a mere tick of a tock from a stolen watch, before the big fall from the ivory tower to lower Wacker Drive.

Now I walk the streets at night looking for sweet revenge, the kind you can taste in the back of your throat. Like you're grinding your teeth on a rusty nail.

Living under the viaduct ain't all fun and games (like they say in the funny papers). But, if you're hiding from something or someone, it's worth its weight in used cardboard.

Cardboard: a commodity a girl would glady kill for.

I plunged the knife between his fourth and fifth rib and (just for fun, like they say in the funny papers) gave it a twist. "You'll be fine, Baby," I said. Like I meant it.