‘Keep alive,’ the orphan came with instructions. At five years old Richard was left on the porch as someone doorbell ditched the Las Vegas City fire department. Everyone who knew him since then, at some point, felt a desire to disobey the explicit command.
In ignorant defiance to the commotion all around him he stared out the high museum windows. Rainless, the tempest flickered in through and bounced off the marble floors, casting twisted split second shadows on the other delinquents as they were strip searched. From behind his black cheek-length hair he looked past the prison-like bars into the vacant sky, waiting for the stranger while the shaky hand of part-time justice dealt with the delinquents. Richard had tricked the other boys into an excursion on the strip for game and glory. He had not met them as promised at the rendezvous point. Instead Richard, with a perfect diversion had made his way to the nearby campus to lift electronics of careless coeds and lazy bachelors.
No comments:
Post a Comment