Dying Memories
“Along the way he had stopped at a dozen or so dumpsters and trashcans outside residences when it felt safe enough for him to look in them, but he wasn’t able to find a discarded jacket that he could use. He almost offered a panhandler a swap of jackets, but he’d had his bomber jacket since leaving the army, and couldn’t get himself to part with it.He hesitated briefly as he walked down Washington Street, then making up his mind, took a detour and stepped down into Filene’s Basement. He found se...veral racks of discounted winter coats but the ones he looked at still cost more than the cash he had on him and he couldn’t risk using a credit card. He also noticed people looking at him funny, which made him just want to get out of there. As he was leaving the store, a hefty-looking kid wearing a store security guard uniform stopped him.“You pay for that?” the kid asked him.Up close the kid looked like he was maybe in his early twenties. Big, with a round face, wispy blond hair and rosy cheeks, his body more flab than muscle.MoreLess
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