The sun went behind a cloud and the whole scene turned into something
monochromatic, a black-and-white clip from an old home movie.
Carefully, he proceeded. Carefully, slipping from doorway to doorway,
slipping up the alleyway to the next, to the corner that led to the
alley that led to Kurt's. Carefully, listening, watching.
And he managed to sneak up on Krishna and Davey, and he knew that for
once, he'd be in the position to throw the rocks.
Krishna sat with his back against the cinderblock wall near Kurt's back
door, knees and hands splayed, head down in a posture of
supplication. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, which he nervously
shifted from corner to corner, like a soggy toothpick. Behind him,
standing atop the dented and scabrous garbage cans, Dumont.
He rested his head on his folded arms, which he rested on the sill, and
he stood on tiptoe to see in the window.
"I'm hungry," Krishna said. "I want to go get some food. Can I go and
get food and come back?"
"Quiet," Dewayne said. "Not another fucking word, you sack of shit." He
said it quietly in a neutral tone that was belied by his words. He
settled his head back on his folded forearms like a babe settling its
head in a bosom and looked back through the window. "Ah," he said, like
he had taken a drink.
Krishna climbed slowly to his feet and stood off a pace or two, staring
at Drew.
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