A Pinnacle to Heaven
And my flame made a pinnacle to heaven
As I walked once round it in possession.
–Robert Frost, The Bonfire
“I’m bustin’ out, Sol.”
Tony Pistratta shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck like a boxer getting ready to go another round. The temperature was a nice 78 degrees. Low humidity. A slight breeze. It reminded him of the time he took a trip to San Diego, assisting his employer with a troublesome client. Back then, he thought it was the most perfect place on Earth.
Now he walked home with his only friend and a stomach full of pastrami on rye, but still feeling unsatisfied.
“You’re full of it,” Sol said. “Forget why you’re doing it. Where you gonna go?” There was little humor in his voice.
Tony hadn’t thought too hard about that. Why should he? He always
