“Psychologie (une, huit, douze)”

(une)

Brick Steele whistled while standing next to the train, wiping sweat from his brow. The ‘crisp’ part of autumn weather hadn’t quite bitten down, yet; but this was perfect cigar weather he thought, smiling at passengers boarding. He’d be off in about five hours; and had a roast beef and cheddar, with avocado, tomato, and German mustard waiting back on board, in his bag. Jaye always put sweet barbecue chips and a sweet tea…