The thing about the Tobies of this world is that they talk a lot, so much that they convince themselves of their own bullshit. But a man who’s never taken a hit is still a man who’s never taken a hit. And until you get knocked down and get back up, you don’t know whether you can. Makes you scared. Makes you all talk. I step toward him, puff my chest. He holds his own, staring off after Glenna. I whistle. “Eyes over here, buddy.” He opens his mouth to spew some kind of nonsense. I take another step. Now he can smell my breath. I hope he can smell Glenna on my jeans. He has a choice. Stay in
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