His work on the docks was backbreaking and it left him little energy for other things. But he hadn’t come straight home from his shift even though he knew she had supper waiting. One of his coworkers had tipped him to somebody who might be able to hook them up with new documents. That was why after eight hours spent loading containers of God knew what, he hopped a bus to the address Rodrigo had given him. The closest stop was three blocks away, and he fought the urge to pull—draw energy from an electrical source—as he walked down Cass Ave. He passed a number of bars and liquor stores before he found the right place. Taye stared up at the block building, the cement a faded, dirty gray. In the derelict bottom floor, he saw the remnants of a grocery store; they advertised fresh produce, but all the doors and windows had iron grills across them. Half of a red and white prescription sign hinted at a defunct pharmacy. Shit, maybe Rodrigo sent me here to get rolled. On the second floor, where he was supposed to go, all the windowpanes were intact, a good sign, he supposed.
