Thousand: Two Hundred Fifty-Three

Samuel completes the swing, disturbing the pigeon which flutters to recover its balance. Samuel staggers, also a little off balance. He glares at the naked youth holding a bucket in one hand, a dripping steel brush in the other. Samuel now notices that his sleeve is soaked through. And his nose is dripping. He wipes water from his eyes and sees a strange white painted on his knuckles. Sorry, Ed says. Didn’t get to those. Your other shoulder either. And your hair. I meant to get back sooner, but you know how these things go. Go? Yes, as far as