Down Third Avenue he goes—away from the hospital, just walking to walk, to feel some kind of movement—and a man sitting on the curb with the dejected posture of a drunk slowly turns his head, affixing a pair of glittering eyes on Bonner. Blood is smeared across one side of his face and darkens the collar of his shirt. He’s wearing a suit. He staggers and pivots, begins galloping toward Bonner on legs that seem strangely suited for it. A thought rips crazily through Bonner’s mind—the man looks like a child pretending to ride a pony. It’s only when he staggers around the garbage can and comes
...more
Good lord
