quite sure I You walk here every day, sir, with that withered look in your “I’m don’t. eyes. seen you. Let me--” I’ve Emiliano muttered a curse under his breath. He spun on his heel, facing the stranger fully. The man matched stature, but his sunken cheeks and knobbly hands gave him the Emiliano’s appearance of a starving beggar. He still clutched his briefcase, and upon catching Emiliano’s eyes roving over it, clasped it even tighter against him. the slightest idea who you are, or to what you are referring, sir. “I haven’t Here.” Emiliano reached back into his wallet and pulled from it a crinkled 1000 córdoba note and thrust it into the unwilling hand of the stranger. get on your way, sir, and be on “Now, I’ll mine.” Emiliano noted that he and his adversary had distanced themselves from the now crowded Calle la Calzada. The faint notes of music drifting from the bar were dissonant and the street lamps were eerie orbs, floating in the distance. you like to take a “Sir, please. Wouldn’t look?” told you, young man, that you have the wrong person. And to be quite frank I-- “I allow me to show you, sir, and you will surely change your mind. He Tenga.” “Just awkwardly slipped the note into his breast pocket and offered Emiliano the briefcase. Emiliano leveled the man with one last, lingering look of pity. had quite “I’ve enough.” sir pl--, y-you “No can’t--.” Emiliano turned on his heel and stalked away, but had made it no farther than a few steps when he heard a quiet thud and felt a sharp tug on his back. The stranger had gotten ahold of his coat and, like a child does to win its attention, was pulling on it. He seemed now to have parent’s
“I’m quite sure I don’t. You walk here every day, sir, with that withered look in your eyes. I’ve seen you. Let me--” Emiliano muttered a curse under his breath. He spun on his heel, facing the stranger fully. The man matched Emiliano’s stature, but his sunken cheeks and knobbly hands gave him the appearance of a starving beggar. He still clutched his briefcase, and upon catching Emiliano’s eyes roving over it, clasped it even tighter against him. “I haven’t the slightest idea who you are, or to what you are referring, sir. Here.” Emiliano reached back into his wallet and pulled from it a crinkled 1000 córdoba note and thrust it into the unwilling hand of the stranger. “Now, get on your way, sir, and I’ll be on mine.” Emiliano noted that he and his adversary had distanced themselves from the now crowded Calle la Calzada. The faint notes of music drifting from the bar were dissonant and the street lamps were eerie orbs, floating in the distance. “Sir, please. Wouldn’t you like to take a look?” “I told you, young man, that you have the wrong person. And to be quite frank I-- “Just allow me to show you, sir, and you will surely change your mind. Tenga.” He awkwardly slipped the note into his breast pocket and offered Emiliano the briefcase. Emiliano leveled the man with one last, lingering look of pity. “I’ve had quite enough.” “No sir pl--, y-you can’t--.” Emiliano turned on his heel and stalked away, but had made it no farther than a few steps when he heard a quiet thud and felt a sharp tug on his back. The stranger had gotten ahold of his coat and, like a child does to win its parent’s attention, was pulling on it. He seemed now to have
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