An excerpt from my new short-story, “Somebodies and Nobodies”:
Colton drove his car into a back alley behind the Last Stop Bar. He made a pillow out of his sweatpants and tried to fall asleep again. His nocturnal mind raced with the excitement of that day’s rescue and heroism.
Unable to sleep at that blue hour, a time when food trucks make their deliveries and only rats and cops wander the streets, Colton drank black coffee, bit into a day-old rye bagel and got out of his car.
Along Main Street were rows of tightly packed, one-story buildings. He picked one, grabbed a window security bar and hoisted himself up onto the roof.
There the young sentry stood, still bleary and sleepy, looking across dozens of dark rooftops. He rubbed his hands together, stretched out his legs and calves, and accelerated into an acrobatic sprint.
He ran and ran atop multiple roofs, rubber on tar, easily catapulting over skylights, over and around small protrusions, air-conditioning, water pipes and vents.
Packed with self-assurance, he dove across dozens of the little stores like an escaped felon, without falling or tripping, in grace and speed.
He landed back, hard, on top of the Last Stop Bar. He sat down on a milk crate to catch his breath. Out of the darkness he heard a hoarse male voice.
“Hey you. Get down. I’ve got a gun in my hand and I’ll blast you!”
Colton disarmed doubt with deference, raised his hands up and stood warily and cautiously near the gutter. “Sir, I am just practicing. I’m not a criminal. I promise.”