It had been raining a while. Thin, damp sheets of lawlessness too fine for the law to bother putting out its umbrella for. So weather duty fell to men like me. And the pay wasn’t good, so we never got time to dry out.
Today I’d need a second helping of breakfast. The first slug of rye barely whet the senses.
The bottle beside my bed was thin as my patience. I crossed from the couch to the drawer of my desk and that’s when the door swung open.
She stood there, all red dress and cocked revolver. “Hi Kurt.”