They sat on the steps of the Dravan Apartments, quietly watching all the dope being slung at the Giacomo Arms across the street. If you didn’t know better, you might think it was some kind of fast food drive thru, or a waterless, towel-less car wash.
It had been a rainy spring, and there were huge puddles in the lot where the city tore down the La Costa, so the mosquitoes were like junkies, swarming, feeding on blood.
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