Ficlets

Speak the Language

Everyday now, when weather permitted, Earl walked to lunch. He rationalized his overconsumption with a brisk 5 minute jaunt to his favorite chinese restaurant. His eyes would soak in the local street life along the wide sidewalks, now and then breaking stride to avoid a sleeping derelict, or puddle of vomit. His father was right. This town was a toilet. The last 40 years of corrupt civic leadership had reduced the old city core to homeless shelters and thrift stores. Even the Police headquarters had relocated. This was now the other side of the tracks. The tracks that now sat silent, the citrus trains gone farther south nowadays. Just up the street next to the salvation army was where he had seen 3 men shoot an older man in front of at least 6 witnesses. He missed lunch that day, waiting his turn to be interviewed by the detectives.3 weeks later a letter arrived at the house informing him that he would be required to testify in court. A pain for sure, what with the lousy courthouse food and terrible air cond

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