“I skidded left and went after it, just as if I were wearing a uniform. The gnomelike man I’d met at the impromptu party in Dee’s room appeared out of nowhere. I almost careened into him. He yelled something as I ran by. I could barely see the snatch-artist once I got outside. If he’d slowed his pace, tried to blend in with the street strollers, I’d have given up. But he kept running. A novice. He was a young tan kid in gang colors, wearing a watch cap in spite of the heat. Slight build. Five-si...x. I tried to get the details straight while I ran, but it was dark and I was furious about my handbag. I’m rarely careless with it. I almost never put it down. I even wear the strap crossed over my chest, bandolero-style, the better to frustrate hit-and-run snatchers. Lulled by Dee’s songs, I’d tossed it on a chair and forgotten its existence. It wasn’t the money. It wasn’t the credit cards. It was the sheer effrontery, the inconvenience it would cause, and the photo of my mom and dad—together and smiling for once—that kept me running.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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