Postcard from Chinguashi

“Everybody’s bigger when they got a gang backin’ them up.”

“Get out, Richie,” Joey said.  He’d made his decision, or maybe an obligation had been thrust on him.  “You don’t want to be with me.  You want an alibi.”

Richie gave him a queer look, then walked away down Canal.

Joey followed the Chinese man up East Broadway and across the four lanes of Pike Street to the red brick projects.  The buildings looked like a vertical jail.  He wondered whether he was any more a prisoner here than Huang was — one a kid from Elizabeth Street and the Chink an immigrant from the other side of the world.  Didn’t matter, he thought.  The clasp knife in his pocket made him everyone’s equal.

Huang let himself in the metal front door as Joey walked two steps behind, acting like any of the Chinese and Spanish guys hanging out on the sidewalk.  He followed Huang into the elevator, whistling.

The old guy didn’t look at Joey as they both got off on the fourth floor.  Joey smelled the cabbage as soon as Huang opened his apartment.  It smelled like Taiwan.

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)