Charlie Biscay leaned over the old wrought iron balcony trying to catch a breeze off Decatur Street. Periodically he poured water from a can onto one of the scores of flowering plants he had arranged in vivid groups of color along the balcony. A small fountain in one corner was made of marble and featured two young boys urinating.
To Sam, Charlie"s balcony looked like a parade float. His nose felt like a catcher"s mitt from the overload of pollen, and he could feel another headache coming on. When Sam sneezed loudly, Charlie let out a squeal of surprise before turning his attention back to his plants.
Sam had been off booze for several days, but his head had been throbbing the entire time. When he had finally seen a doctor, he learned he had sustained a concussion from his head wound. Sa
