The alley was dark, a slick of melted snow and recent rain coating the asphalt surface. The liquid caught the glare of the lone light hanging above, the only bulb in the long, narrow alley that hadn’t burned out. It gave the ground a sheen like a sun was burning somewhere overhead beyond a layer of clouds, but this was a lie; the night was dark, but State Street’s brilliant beams seeping in from the entrance to the alley cast a little illumination.
Dumpsters lined both sides of the alley, and the stink of rotting food hung in the cold night. Both the scent of the garbage and the chill air seeped into the waiting man’s nasal passages. He was crouched behind one of the dumpsters, just listening, the sounds of State Street in the early morning filtering into the alley. Noise from an occasional passing car or drunken pedestrian weaving up the slick sidewalk made its way to his ears over the sound of the heating units running above his head, their ticks and clicks fighting to be heard over the electrical hum as they pushed heat into the brick buildings on either side of the alley.
He’d been waiting for a while; the ache of crouching had long ago settled on his muscles. His thighs hurt, his knees hurt, his ankles positively moaned their displeasure. This wasn’t his gig, this sitting and waiting. This wasn’t his life. He preferred booze, cigarettes, and well-heated, smoke-filled casino rooms. Dark alleys in the middle of the night? Not really his thing. Aching joints? Well, that was mostly in his mind, but still not his thing. He massaged his thigh carefully, as though it would help, then he stiffened when he heard the sound he’d been waiting for.
