Monday night

I eat two more slices sitting on the deck of my temporary home, cool air blowing off the bay and drying the sweat on the back of my neck. I lounge with my head back on the cushion as the sun melts behind the trees, the orange-yellow ball dissolving into the wispy palm fronds. Shadows slink across the deck like creatures of the night. 

Diablo stands on the corner of the table working on a piece of crust. I carry on a conversation with him as though he is ...