And there he was. Dying like a bum.
Which begged the question, if a legend like Omar could die like that, what would the end be like for a bum like Bobby? Would he have rooms in a rundown row house? Would he even have a scarred and ancient nurse to check on him twice a day?
Bobby wasn’t even sure Diona was a nurse. He hadn’t seen her give Omar a pill, much less check his vital signs. Maybe she was some kind of church nurse, because she’d prayed over him several times.
The only thing Bobby knew for sure about her--and not because of her scars--was that she’d been through some terrible suffering. It was like someone had poured her full of darkness and plugged it up inside her, leaving it to curdle and soak in and rot her from the inside out.
Bobby recognized it because he was full
