Alleyway of Glasses
‘You got the stuff?’ I asked the man in the trench coat. He had his back to me, silhouetted by the neon-drenched reflections in the rain-soaked alley. ‘You’re late,’ came his gravelly reply. ‘Traffic, y’know,’ I shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You drive?’ he asked, turning slightly, face still obscured by a wide-brim hat. ‘Nah, not much,’ I …