Ajax Penumbra 1969 (Kindle Single)
“The clerk listens intently, his eyebrows lowered in concentration, the broad field of his forehead furrowed. More longhairs approach the desk to inquire about the bathroom key. The clerk surrenders it silently, without protest. Almost without looking.
Penumbra finishes his tale with the name of the San Francisco bookseller. The clerk is quiet, thinking.
“Well,” he says at last. “I don’t know about any William Gray.”
“I have grown accustomed to that reply. It is not—”
The clerk holds up a hand. ...“Wait. We’ll ask Mo.”
“Mo?”
The front door crashes open and the bell above clatters harshly. Penumbra turns to watch as an unseen presence charges through the crowd, its passage marked by a ripple of greetings: “Hey, Mo.”
“Mo!”
“How’s it hanging, Mo?”
“Mo, my main man!”
The sea of longhairs parts, and there, standing barely five feet tall, gleamingly bald, is a man who can only be Mohammed Al-Asmari. Round-rimmed glasses rest on the sharp hook of his nose.MoreLess
Penumbra finishes his tale with the name of the San Francisco bookseller. The clerk is quiet, thinking.
“Well,” he says at last. “I don’t know about any William Gray.”
“I have grown accustomed to that reply. It is not—”
The clerk holds up a hand. ...“Wait. We’ll ask Mo.”
“Mo?”
The front door crashes open and the bell above clatters harshly. Penumbra turns to watch as an unseen presence charges through the crowd, its passage marked by a ripple of greetings: “Hey, Mo.”
“Mo!”
“How’s it hanging, Mo?”
“Mo, my main man!”
The sea of longhairs parts, and there, standing barely five feet tall, gleamingly bald, is a man who can only be Mohammed Al-Asmari. Round-rimmed glasses rest on the sharp hook of his nose.MoreLess
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