Judge, Jury, and Executioner
Pride is the Root of All Evil
Nancy read on her stool in the thrift shop as a young man came in all rugged and tired.
“You’re new. What’s your name?” Derrick asked.
“Nancy.”
“Well, Nancy,” he said cocky, strutting up to the counter. “How you doin’?”
“Fine,” she shrugged.
“Whatcha reading?”
“Just a book for school.”
“School. Never went to school, never wanted to. I’m a roofer. Fuckin’ hard work, but you probably know that being there, you know?”
“Yeah, well, I love it,” she boasted.
“That’s good,” Derrick smiled slyly as he lit a cigarette. Nancy’s eyes sharpened.
“Um, I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.”
“Sure I can. It’s fine.” He blew smoke above his head. “I’ll be out of your way. Just lookin’.”
Nancy was uncertain of this young roofer. She kept her eyes on him glued to his weird walk and dirty look. He looked at something and put it inside his jacket and kept walking.
“Hey! What you think you’re doin’? Put that back!” She rushed upon him arms akimbo.
