“I assure you, Mrs. Marcel, this drought is going to break.” Al Bee Bee Watcher smiled at his landlady. The apartment lobby’s 1920’s décor surrounded him, clashing spectacularly with the modern computer on her desk.
“And I’m telling you, there’s no chance.” Mrs. Marcel shook her head. “Put away your raincoat, Mr. Watcher;
Pan pulled at his leash, and it took everything in Peter to hold him back. The burly black-and-tan German shepherd was having none of it.
“Come on, boy. We’ve got to stay focused. If we fail, we’re kicked out for good.” Muscles straining, Peter tightened his grip and heaved in the opposite direction.
She stood before the back alley wall. Chalk and marker, spray paint and ink splattered the bricks, but all she saw was blood. The entire wall oozed it, out of the alley, down the street, and through the capital city. And she could not do a single thing about it.
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