”An old boxcar, parked on the edge of a junkyard had become home for Shadow. The owner of the junkyard, a man nearly as ugly as Shadow, had hired hi... as a night watchman. The pay was bad, the hours were horrible, and the work was boring, but it was better than having nothing, doing nothing, and sleeping in a storm drain. At least he didn’t have to work hard to avoid people.Shadow sat in the door of the boxcar, his legs dangling down and swinging, as he prepared his lunch. Pulling the top off a. He is thinking "too hot, too hot--what else can come off--take my tattoos off to get cooler." In a bottom drawer he finds something heavy, pulls it out. A set of clippers, heavy like the hand of authority, like the pair your father used to use, like the ones they use on Marines, and sheep. White shorts looks at black shorts. **** White briefs went first, and his hair dusts the floor. That left on his head forms a jet-black cap against the blue, blue of his. More

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