The wind howled in Henri’s ears. He swore he could hear the relentless howling of an owl overhead every step he took to get home. The buzz of a motorbike swished past him, followed by another and another. Things were out of sorts tonight, things were making him jumpy. Henri moved closer to the closed shops on the sidewalk. Besides the passing motorbikes the night was still—a little to still. He concentrated on his footsteps trying to keep his thoughts on that instead of the creepiness all around. He was exhausted and ready for a couple hours of sleep before the hospital in the morning. He stopped walking, setting the picnic basket and radio at the door of the old second hand store. He removed the items inside of the picnic basket and tossed them in the garbage. He didn’t have the energy to lug it the rest of the way home. At least this way it was going to a good home. *** Jake crunched the beer can in his grip and then sent it airborne toward the dumpster next to the yogurt hut.
