Balkey had always been a tall one. He slung low; in lizard mode.
he followed the Pinnys lead the scared Rag dolls across the town
roundabout, through the scrap markets and past the sad mongers.
They danced up Rich St. going a pace that made Balkey wonder if
he’d been made. But the throng of Great Town stayed heavy that day,
and Balkey knew when to dip into an alley to stay unseen. Curious.
Breaking and letting the boys and their deliverables get a good ways
ahead, Balkey slowed his pace. He narrowed his eyes. Mean days.
They were headed to Coral’s.
Balkey swallowed a yawp and it turned into a cough. Sun damn them
all, why were they going to Coral’s? The space the Pinnys turned in
led to a road that turned into wind that bucketed you out into the hot
part of town. Coral’s corner. Balkey’s stompyard. Violence and dance.