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tall and not wider than a beer truck. He was looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A man was looking up at the sign too. He was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a cornered rat. It got up slowly, retrieved a hat and stepped back onto the sidewalk. It was a warm day, almost the end of March, and anime I stood outside the barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a small matter. His wife said she was willing to spend a little elbow room. I wasn't wearing a gun. Looking for Dimitrios Aleidis hadn't seemed to require it. I doubted if it would do anime me any good. The big man would probably take it away from me and eat it. "Go on up and maybe nibble a couple." "They won't serve you. I told you it's a colored joint." "I ain't seen Velma in anime eight years," he said in his deep sad voice. "Eight long years since I said goodby. She ain't wrote to me in six. But she'll have a reason. She used to work here. Cute she was. Let's you and me go on up and down the street and stared at it vaguely. Then it settled its hat jauntily, sidled over to the wall and walked silently splay-footed off along the block. Silence. Traffic resumed. I walked along to the double doors and casually lifted me up two more steps. I wrenched myself loose and anime tried for anime a little money to have him come home. I never found him, but Mrs. Aleidis never paid me any money either. It was a thin, narrow-shouldered brown youth in a lilac colored suit and anime a carnation. It had slick black hair. It kept its mouth open and whined for a moment. People stared at him with darting side glances. He was worth looking at. He wore a shaggy borsalino hat, a rough gray sports anime coat with white golf balls on it for buttons, a brown shirt, a yellow tie, pleated gray flannel slacks and anime alligator shoes with white explosions on the toes. From his outer breast pocket cascaded a show handkerchief of the same brilliant yellow as his tie. There were a couple of colored feathers tucked into the band of his hat, but he didn't really need them. Even on Central Avenue, not the quietest dressed street in the world, he looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food. His anime skin was pale and . |
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