It"s a good place to wait. A narrow alleyway separates two streets. Streetlights keep both ends bright, but not the narrow passage between. So, they come in with their night vision screwed and they don"t see me.
And this one"s drunk. The smell of his whiskey arrives before he does.
Maybe he"s celebrating something. He looks to have plenty to celebrate. Well dressed. Expensive clothes. Gold glints on his left hand. His right hand holds the bottle.
“Got any change, Pal?”
“Sure, here…” The drunk rummages in a pocket, producing a handful of silver. “Go get something hot to eat. You look like you could use it.”
“Thanks. You"re a star.”
And as he wavers on, he doesn"t notice I’m still behind him. Making barely a murmur as he goes down, he cracks his head against the brickwork. But I"m car
