The Girl Who Doesn't Step On Pavement Cracks...

Some folk need the company of likeminded friends to get them through the day.?

Others, like Blind Willie, merely need to sit back, relax, and let the sounds of the world wash over them.?

His eyes are useless but he sees more than most. He's a visually impaired master of all his senses. Except one. A perfect example of what you've never had you don't miss. His ears are his eyes.?

So is his nose...and his fingertips.?

And his guardian angels are Little Italy, Big Red...and Tiny.?

Tiny, whose mother has been blind since a drunken driver stole her sight away when she was nine.?

Tiny, who knew how to sign before he knew how to speak out loud.?

Tiny, the only one allowed to bring Blind Willie his Honey Americano.?

Sometimes the biggest jobs go to the smallest people.?

Sometimes they go to the tallest.?

Little Italy makes it. Big Tiny takes it. He walks to Blind Willie's table, careful not spill a drop, and sets it down six inches from the old man's hands.?

He doesn't have to say a word. Blind Willie heard every step. Tiny has rubber soles but Willie has hearing like a cat. He smiles and nods.?

The big guy gets the message, smiles back then goes back to stand guard behind the bar. Mission accomplished.?

The hinges squeak on a door closed to deny entry to the chill of the morning.?

Little Italy doesn't need to look. She knows the sound. Two quick steps over the threshold...a pause for a double-tap heartbeat...then a careful walk 20 feet or so to the bar.?

The Girl Who Doesn't Step On Pavement Cracks is back.?

It's been a month. Seems like yesterday. Hello stranger, where you been, says Big Red. The Girl smiles. Down South, she says. I got a relative who got a disease.?

Tiny chips in. Not catching is it? For a second The Girl looks worried, then she beams a large one. Naaaah, she says. He's not the generous type.?

This one's on the house, says Little Italy. Special rate for homecoming regulars.?

The Girl doesn't say a word. You don't argue with the lady of the house. The hostess with the mostest. She just takes her double-shot espresso and heads for the balcony. Always on the tread. Never on the edge.?

As she leaves, Little Italy looks at the box on the wall. The box has its own little peculiarities. Always looks twice to the left before dropping the right track into place. Just like now with number 33.?

The curtains open and a spotlight hits a microphone. Standing behind it is Johnny Nash. Sharp dresser. Soul and Reggae singer from Houston, Texas. Ironic as Hell.?

Blind Willie blinks. Thinks. I can see clearly now. Smiles, reaches out and gently lifts his cup to his lips.?

Right on target.?

Radar like a bat..

*************************************

You've just read an extract from my urban romance, Love & Coffee. You can find it here at?https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

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