“Does I have to?” Sheemie’s eyes were filling with tears. He held up a chicken leg in a Baggie, looked at it, then looked at Eddie. He was aware he was playing for an audience, and knew that what an audience mostly wants is to be entertained. She held her breath, praying this would be over soon.
The smoke formed a face, this time. Roland next handed Avery a letter which he took from his wallet with some care. “I left the world I knew to watch a kid try to put booties on a fucked-up weasel. Back when he had been long and going on tall but maybe not so ugly; back when the Tower hadn’t yet got its best hold on him.
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