Chapter 32 An uneven row of green and brown beer bottles implode at their centers as speeding lead slashes through them like they were decapitated by the single swipe of a samurai sword. Fine, glass shrapnel floats in the light breeze behind them, appearing as dust before dissipating into nothingness.
The rest of the men look to be cackling like crows around me, and they are slapping their hands together in applause. I join in when Alvar twists his head in our direction. The glare from the diminishing, early evening sunlight bounces off his glasses and his mane of silver hair, sparing me from the fountain of pride that is most certainly emitting from his dark eyes judging from the way that those crooked, yellow teeth of his show in a smile. The small shadows cast inside the deep pockmarks
