Awesome. As always, powerful characterizations so quickly. Definitely left me wanting to read more.
I could see her from the end of the block. She was sitting on the sidewalk under the yellow-orange street lamp, next to a pile of white rubbish bags from the nail salon next door. There was something white sticking from her mouth, bigger than a cigarette. A thermometer maybe. And she was holding an ice pack over her eye. It was fresh, which meant Abdul had probably given it to her. I could see him as I approached, peering out the window of the shop, making sure the crazy white girl with the black eye was okay on the street.
He smiled and waved when he saw me coming.
“It’s all right,” I called through the glass. “I’ll take care of her.”
Abdul Suleiman was the 50-something owner of the Halal market under my apartment, and my landlord. He had a sloping bald head with an arc of black…
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