This time it’s come down to a pack of cigarettes.
He puts his hand between the sofa cushions where the more vulnerable packs sometimes get captured. Grit but no cigarettes. He scans the floor, picturing how this will turn out.
Silence. He takes another step. I’mo go git another pack. More silence. You want me to bring you somethin’ back?
There’s another city. Bigger. Seven hours past the first city. No one from here goes there. He could get lost in that city.
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House . . . house. . . . He feels excitement fear excitement fear. He can’t go to the city without a plan. He doesn’t have a plan. He can’t make a plan.
He feels good about taking the extra steps. Some of the men he knows don’t even try–one guy got caught with pussy on his breath. That was disrespectful.
