Michael was waiting for Silas when he came out of his basement apartment. Silas didn’t see him, he made sure of that. It was early evening, the overcast sky a rich, deep gray, on the cusp of a thunderstorm. The air was heavy too. Michael could feel it pressing down on his body, though the stress of what he was doing could also explain the feeling.
He was across the street in an adjacent alley, hidden behind a couple of wooden pallets that had been there for as long as Michael could remember. He often sat here when he was waiting for either Father Deluca or Silas. He didn’t like waiting in the open, probably a holdover from his time on the streets.
Today, however, he was hiding with a specific purpose. He didn’t want Silas to know he was there. That made him sad. Usually, he did
