Jesse just posted part 3 of his story about “The Mover.”
Some excerpts:
As I did, I instinctively headed right again, snaking my way through an equally busy sidewalk, collecting swear words like it was my job … Fortunately I was moving just fast enough to create my own breeze. I glanced at a license plate as a white and grimy cab sped through a red light. The little orange and green-leafed peach in the corner of the white plate meant only one thing – Georgia … She may have been poorly appointed, but there was a dignity to the woman that I couldn’t immediately place. Her gaze went right through me, making me feel like my pants were missing, too … Whatever she was looking at seemed to disappear. She looked back at me as though she had been waiting for me to ask, as though she did know what I’d been thinking.
