He had bigger things on his mind than corner loungers or early-bird whores.
He was thirty-four years old, and he was wanted for murder.
For my own entries today, a couplet that just jutted itself in my head this morning as I was commuting to work. Dunno what'll come of it.
With tears in his eyes, the chef reached for the meat cleaver and stared down at the body. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and set to work, doing his best to ignore the man with the gun who watched on impassively.(Yeah, it's an adverb but this is off the top of my head.)
For more two-sentence goodness, head on over to Women of Mystery.