Ever looked good out on Main, his feet a foot above a fiery sidewalk, his wings wide, his eyes glazed. He’s higher and wiser than most, his lowest moments behind him now, dim memories, all the earth unfolding, lifting him up, a raging angel.
Will had held a packet of powder for hours, waiting for Ever to show; waiting, drained, with a hacking cough in a slow rain. This is what he did. Hidden in his jacket pocket, deep in the darkness there, the tiny white bundle had waited for Ever.
Now it was an hour or more further into the rain. Ever’s out on Main in a red hat and a fine high haze and Will’s on another corner, further downtown, waiting forever for another sucker, with a pocketful of bait.