5. “Common’ there
must be more!” The man menaced David Green
with a small black pistol. “That’s all,”
Green lisped, drunk. “Drank it all. Gone. Bad day.
Money all gone. Everything gone.”
“Let’s go to the ATM. Common,” the man
grasped Green roughly, and Green lost his footing, falling toward the
mugger. The man shot and Green fell into
a pile of garbage. “Oh shit. Fuckin shit,” the mugger backed away and
ran. Green mumbled something into
yesterday’s New York Times, which was blowing around the trash like a guardian
spirit. Then he stared mealy eyed Death
in the face and was quiet.
No comments:
Post a Comment