Marina sometimes looked at long lengths at. But Marina was old now, her fountain long dried as she watched her side shadow falling over the ground beside her feet, her mind wandering back to the time when she would run from Mr. Picket's food store as fast as her stick legs would go. Running so that the paint chipped stores and the cracked windows of downtown blurred past. When she was asked to go to the store for Mama, Marina would take the short cut behind Cuming's shoe store, down into the alley where a chain linked fence offered a small space between the brick wall. She would slide through, coming to the other side, already hearing the chants of the men playing their crap game.
Marina is quicker than a vanilla ice-cream licker.
Herald, the one dark as linseed oil said, releasing the dice from his hands against the wall as she ran past giggling, Her sharp shins cut through the wind like two knives. They were behind her before she could blink, twelve blocks away and inside Mr. Picket's grocery door, the bell on top sounding out her arrival. Mr. Picket stood behind the counter in his blue apron. His stubby yellow face stretching into a wide smile that caused his eyes to disappear into his skin. She passed them all, giving a nod of her head.