Dzinski walked into a tavern, and out of the early morning sun.
“Hot one,” the bartender said, pulling a beer from the refrigerator and setting it down. The amber bottle sweating already.
“Yeah,” Dzinski said, pressing the cool glass to his forehead.
“Only gonna get worse, they say. You see the paper?”
The story was old news in the neighbourhood, by the time they picked it up. Nothing you could learn from the front page, that the street didn’t know all ready. But it was that kind of place.
“How’d they hear about it?” Dzinski asked, pushing the empty away.