Quince
The neighborhood by the canal is quiet. A couple of the shot-out streetlights are finally repaired. People walk their dogs; children play in their backyards; though no one stays outside too long, especially after dark. Occasionally there’s the smell of meat grilling on a barbecue. The vehicles driving down the street mostly belong to people turning into their driveways. This seeming return to normality doesn’t result from a neighborhood watch program full of fed-up residents patrolling the streets with baseball bats or Taser guns. Nor does it result from an increased police presence. The police are too busy dealing with other crimes in other neighborhoods. A few gangbangers selling crystal to pimps and hos aren’t important enough to warrant time and manpower in a city overrun with
