Drop by Drop

27

When Morris Saddlethwaite burst through the door of Bill’s Bar and Grill his face was ashen. “You’re not gonna believe this! I mean, you’re not gonna believe this!”

“You’re repeating yourself,” said Bill. “Sit down and have a drink, you look like you need one. Or have you had too many already?”

“Is that your red car parked outside the door?” Saddlethwaite asked Jack.

“You know it’s my car, there’s not another one like it in the state. If it’s in your way I’ll move it, though.”

The other man lifted his right arm and waved it in the air. The sleeve was covered with a flaky substance that resembled dried blood and crumbled from the fabric. “I don’t know if you can move it, Jack. I just brushed against your fender and this stuff came off on my clothes. Now the goddamned metal’s rotting!”