Ramirez paused for a fleeting second, enough to take a surreptitious glance at the low hanging clouds interspersed between a magnificently clear blue sky. Even though he was hurtling away in his rented Chevrolet, it was as though time stood serenely still for the calmly floating clouds.
Although he knew not where he was heading to, he was perfectly aware as to from whom he was speeding away, or trying to at least. What began as a seemingly unpretentious tryst with bootlegging had transcended beyond cacti and into Cocaine.
Everything he did was for the benefit of Layla and Fabiano. The unsuspecting mother and child were fast asleep at the back with no inking whatsoever of the perils facing them.
As he reluctantly focused once more on the road, the words of Mr. Francesco assailed his ears, “Crime is like glamour. It never overcomes it’s sell-by-date.”
(Word Count: 146)
This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw
For the complete list of entries, please click HERE