The Scout

I decided to stay in the hotel. What I saw no doubt surprised me. A Greek fountain in the lobby wept black blood, but something inside me half expected that. I had lived in the neighborhood for a long time and seen stranger things. The concierge cracked walnuts with one finger. You’d have to try harder than that, I told him. He smiled and showed me eight small children he kept in between his teeth. I didn’t have my glasses but something told me they were alright. He pointed me in the direction of the room, a carcass of a red horse with a well concealed slit down its belly. It’s very quiet, he told me. You will not be bothered. It was as if he’d read my mind, solved a crossword I could not finish. For years I had searched for solace in the eyes of my collie, but found only fire and brimstone. I felt close to this man, an understanding that superseded the usual boarder/concierge relations. I told him I’d take it, asked him how much. It is yours for as long as you like, he said, providing you play a game of catch with me. We went out back, through the hide around. It was then I saw it. This kid had talent.