Member-only story
Boots Like Drumbeats
“You! We’re looking for a vagrant. Boy, about ten.”
I went outside to investigate when I heard the sneeze.
I shone my flashlight into the old wine barrel. A shock of white hair reflected the beam back at me, and then I was looking into a pair of frightened blue eyes.
“Hell, kid,” I said as I surveyed the trespasser. The barrel had been deteriorating for two years, yet still gave off a mild pungency of sour grapes.
“You one of them?”
Nod.
Of course.
At the sound of boots like drumbeats, I glanced up the street that bordered my property. Two policemen, shrouded in body armor. I replaced the barrel’s lid.
“You! We’re looking for a vagrant. Boy, about ten.”
“Haven’t seen him.”
As the turned away, I winced at a muffled sneeze.
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