|
|
| gift, baby gift, gift certificate, corporate gift, gift basket |
 |
man was looking up at the sign too. He was looking up at the sign too. 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 dusty windows with a sort of sadness in his gray eyes. "I'm feelin' good," he said. "I just thrown him out. You seen me throw him out?" He let go of my shoulder and squashed it to a pulp. Then the hand moved me through the birthday gift doors and casually lifted me up a step. The large face looked at me. A deep soft voice said to me, quietly: "Smokes in here, huh? Tie that for me, pal." It birthday gift was dark in there. It was quiet. From up above came vague sounds of humanity, but we were alone on the stairs. The big man stared at me solemnly and birthday gift went on wrecking my shoulder with his hand. "A dinge," he said. "I wouldn't want anybody to fuss with me. Let's you and me 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 eight years," he said in his deep sad voice. "Eight birthday gift 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 see for birthday gift yourself," I said, trying to keep the agony out of a three-chair barber shop where an agency thought a relief barber named Dimitrios Aleidis might be working. It was a big man but not more than six feet five inches tall and not wider than a . |
|
|
|
|
