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eyes. "I'm feelin' good," he said. "Little Velma. I ain't seen her in eight years. You say this here is a dinge joint?" I croaked that it was. He 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 was dark in there. It was quiet. From up above came vague sounds of amateur hardcore 15 humanity, but we were alone on the stairs. The big man stared at me solemnly and went on up the stairs. He let me walk. My shoulder ached. The back of my shoulder. The bone didn't seem to be broken, but the arm was numb. "It's that kind of a place," I said, rubbing . |
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