TWENTY-SIX
Oliver awakened to the sound of loud rapping on the door of the dilapidated house in the shadow of the St. Johns Bridge. Oliver rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he approached the door. He observed the form of a large man standing on the concrete porch.
“Hey, Antoine,” greeted Oliver.
The large man with dark skin and a broad smile held a box with food items and a large crockpot. “I heard Cyllvia wasn’t up to her old self, so I brought my mama’s potion to heal her up today,” he said.
Oliver took the box from Antoine’s large hands. He almost wilted under the weight of the box, but Antoine supported his arms to avoid a disaster on the hardwood floor.
“You have to be careful in the city,” advised Antoine. He pointed to a cracked windshield of a golden Escalade parked at th
