“I hefted my pail of soapy water and staggered over to open it. If this caller was that carrier, telling me that he couldn’t deliver some bread because he couldn’t read the address or remember where Collins Street was, I was going to be really cross. And in need of a new carrier, while he would be in need of a towel, an ice-pack and a referral to a good dentist. My back hurt and my knees were wet and I had had enough. I threw open the door and came face to face with a scared stripling who looked... like he was about to run away terribly fast. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I thought you were someone else.’ ‘I’m glad I’m not him,’ he said. Cheeky boy, eh? I looked him up and down. Sneakers which had seen better decades. Track pants which hung on him in folds and a meagre t-shirt which had once belonged, according to the legend, to Folsom prison. Thin as a lath. Scrappy pale hair and weak blue eyes. I felt like I had kicked a stray dog. ‘What can I do for you?’ I asked. ‘Got any jobs?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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