Rottin Resources (Snippet)

For the next few hours, people walked by. Streams of ‘em going in and leaving with cups and bags and scratchers and instant meals. He didn’t like to beg. He didn’t want to go in either because last time he went into a convenience store the prick at the counter threatened to call the police on him. 

The ash was getting heavier and the night colder. His overgrown graying hair caught the little white flakes. 

Ding!

The storekeeper closed the door and locked it. She looked him up and down. 

“I thought these things were 24/7.” She shook her head.

“Fires are too close,” she replied. The girl had jet-black hair contrasting her pasty white skin. Piercings covered her ears and little tattoos poked through her white button up. She just stood there, looking at him. Observing him like a gun ready to fire. There was something about her that JN didn’t understand. 

She walked away. Sneakers getting swifter as she turned the corner. He crawled to peek at her getting into her car. At the top of the hillside, fire crept over. She drove away. 

With her gone, he went to check out the blaze. It was loud, peaceful. Moreso warm. He took off his coat and reached out his arms as if he were ten again at a campfire. His broken, rotting right arm tensed. JN sat down and watched before pulling out his notebook. 

The writing was messy, he hadn’t grown up a leftie. Lines and pages passed before he was satisfied. The fire crept closer and closer. He was almost at its edge. 

The wailing of fire trucks interrupted the peace. Water got on his pages. A burly fireman tossed him to the side like he weighed nothing, then got back to work. The large man walked to his coworkers and remarked “This is the fourth homeless guy testing the fires today. Really is a sad world.” 

Water went downhill, wetting JN’s socks. He was cold.