Saint of the Narrows Street

by William Boyle

She liked Sav’s voice, sticky with the syrup of the neighborhood, part concrete and part muscle car.

Past a certain hour, no normal people are putting things into a trunk, certainly not things it takes two people to carry.

He cackles, his throaty laugh making it sound like he gargles with gravel.

Her whole life, she’s tried to do the right thing in every situation. And look where it’s gotten her. Maybe she needs to do the wrong thing more often.