Anchors – published by The Feathertale Review – November 2020
He was half-in, half-out of a dumpster on Verona Street when we saw him, sockless feet in white Cuban shoes kicking arcs through the air, khakis rolled up over calf muscles like two scoops of ice cream. DJâ€™s first instinct was to pull him out, but I put my hand up.
â€œWait,â€ I said.
There was something deliberate to the rhythm of his legs, as though he were a scuba diver, driving hard toward treasure. When he surfaced, landing solidly on his feet beside the dumpster, he held a metal folding chair high above his head. It, a trophy. He, triumphant. I lifted my camera and snapped a picture. â€œYou missed my good side,â€ he said and turned, setting the chair on the asphalt, leaning on it as though it were a cane …
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