"Can you get them out of here?" she whispered."Can you get them out of here?" she whispered. "Who?" She nodded past me. It was a rainy, chilly autumn night and I couldn't be surprised that a couple of bums had moved in. One sat there with his pants halfway down his thighs, adding aroma. The other was sleeping. I took off my glasses and ran my fingers through my hair to make it unkempt and put on my best Stop-Me-Before-I-Kill look. "Out." The sleeper woke, the stripper froze. "Waddya -- " "Get back to the Men's Shelter on Graham Avenue -- now." "But -- " "I didn't say 'talk'; I said OUT!" They quietly shuffled out and headed south. I smoothed my hair, replaced my glasses and headed for the back to pick up my laundry. Sabrina intercepted me, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a hug. I disentangled her and turned to her mom. "Well?" "Thank you." "No hug?" She blushed and giggled, covering her mouth as she did so. Livinia was barely taller than her daughter, but one helluvalot more grown up. At 26, she was barely five-foot-one, and had a petite frame. |