Oliver drove through a red light at Burnside with his horn blaring. He reached The Elephant, a concrete monument that attracted drug dealers from all parts of town. He thought about looking for another connection for methamphetamine so he would not have to drive to the Citadel to buy from Zippy. Oliver scanned the faces for a familiar person. Surprisingly, he observed Zippy talking to some of the other dealers sitting at a table next to the flexing ears of the monument. He brought the Ford to a stop at the side of the street. “Zippy!” he yelled.
A skinny man with long, unkempt dirty-blond dreads and a thick mask approached the car with a swagger unmatched by any of the other dealers at the monument. The mask obscured the usually broad smile that Zippy wore.
“Feeling better?” asked
