There she stood, clinging onto her bright red purse, the seasons of the sun streaming onto her eyes in some longing, unrequited gaze. How lonely those rays were on this year’s hot June afternoons. The frailed sidewalk managed to crawl up in the nooks of the shoes she chose to wear, under her socks, on this occasion, on her way to return a stolen bag back to Mures, not the same red she let hang off her right shoulder. By the time her mule began to park, 3 inches behind that carrivel in black parked in front of the house, she’d forgotten what tension held her lower back, and her eyes returned from their lingering and darting. The package was never that big, but Mures always made it seem like it was. Pursel headed back, with only her own purse this time, no mule beneath her. Next week, same day, same time, she merged from her rotting but endearing apartment door, blinded again by the sun, both the door and her. No red purse, but two stolen bags to hand over today. Mures was in an especially rotten mood this time. Not even that silver smile poked it out of her. Silver smile’s were meant to expunge most of the uncertainties built up within herself last season, but of course her neighbors would never know.

Dinner was a cold bucket of snails. Her favorite stew hadn’t re-stocked at the store yet, Graceland left his crowbar at his dads, and his brother’s hired 24 were still bent on recovering from their last mishap. Always a good murk grit lodged between his gaping 2 front teeth, always a toothpick in mouth and dark light over his face. A single, cylindrical mold hovered above his head, tipping whichever way his chin was pointed. He’d never had a need for silver smiles. Well. What a morning, aint it partner. Happy, happy happy. You know another day’s in store for you lot. Graceland knows. Bring it on over to me won’t you? The lead of the 24 spoke with a brittle impatience, wearing nothing but a long, single broadcloth with a hole for his head. His weight hung to one side and both hands on either side of his hips as he spoke to the store’s lead transporter, who was filling in for Graceland that day. Calibrate your enthusiasm. Today’s only left a half share to send your way. Why don’t you return at new dawn? Have a fresh new bundle waiting for you, strikers and all. I’ll throw in a coin too, your mule seems…desiring. The hire spat. Be only a second to spare, can’t say it would be worth it to have to come back. Yer friend there seems to agree with me. Hardly, he’s just worried things might spoil. Between us…I’m already late for this shipment. Top of the barrel to you tomorrow. With strikers. Pah, the hire’s left hand opened in a flick off his hip as he spat off the side of his head and swiveled his hips, right hand still attached to his side. He made room for the two to pass the street, who didn’t look back as they passed him.

The day after Pursel decided to wear her new red piece, she wore it again over her right shoulder. The day after was always meant to be a repeat decoy day, handing off blanks to Mures to start off the morning. Seasons to many to count now…