Postcard from Chinguashi

“Who’s gonna kill me?”  This Holly looked like the bar girls he’d met in Saigon, Cholon and Taipei, but better dressed.

She smiled.  “Why, me, of course.  You already a walking dead man.  Don’t you feel it?  Pressure in your head?  Your face on fire?  Your eyes feel like they ready to blow out of your head?  It was the poison I put in your drink.”

He became aware of the pounding in his temples.  “This is a public place.  You can’t….”

“I bet lots of guys fall off their barstools here.  Think anybody cares?”

“You ain’t serious!”  His eyes were popping out of his skull now.

“You say that, but I am.  A girl can’t just let her father be knifed by some hoodlum.”  She tossed five dollars on the bar and got up.  “See you around.”





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