“I’d be happy to help you out next time,” laughed Pinstripes. Burgess’s head turned so slowly, time seemed to be moving backward. Birds flew overhead, children laughed and cried on the playground, cars honked, the earth rotated around the sun, and still he was in the process of turning his head. “What do you mean by that, buddy?” Burgess asked, his tone dripping with malice. Only, the way he said “buddy” sounded more like “future corpse.”
