There are more of us tonight; we sit quietly, shoulder to shoulder.
Behind us, at a safe distance, we see the headlights of the first unmarked paddy-wagon. This is for the redeemables.
The others are for the others.
Gratifyingly, there are fewer customers on the streets tonight. The word is finally permeating through, though it’s taken a while. And some ‘procedures’ we’d rather not dwell upon.
Five hours later, at 3.00am, our work is over.
The streets are safe, peaceful. And deserted.
A patrol car heads in the other direction, the occupants averting their gaze.
Window-dressing. No more, no less.
Sorry to have been MIA for the last two or three weeks. I’ll try to do better to see out the rest of the year. A more reliable presence throughout the year is the Friday Fictioneer leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thanks for all you do, Rochelle.