From the introduction:
Heat smothers the dark streets of the city. Sirens wail in the distance as some hardcase squanders his last few minutes as a free man. Upstairs, some dame sobs the soulful notes of a broken heart into the phone. Saxophone music slinks in from the street below, and smoke wafts like the memory of a departed lover's kiss through your mind.
(The memory, that is, not the smoke. The memory wafts through your mind, and the smoke wafts through your kiss ... ... no, I mean, through your lover ... wait, the lover was your memory, it's the streets wafting through — AUGH, START OVER)