"The Ploy"
a short story
Gary Baker, October 2012
Jeffy looked up, staring cross-eyed at his companion, Kher, on the other side of the stone table. The sun was bright, lending a warm glow to most of the urban park around them as the morning dew evaporated into nine-a.m. fog. Kher just watched the table, longingly, as if in deep thought.
"You want some Skittles?" Jeffy shook a king-size red bag in his hands loudly. The small flattened spheres of fluorescent sugar inside tacked around and against one another, echoing across the desolate morning scene.
Kher finally reached his annoyed glare up to Jeffy. "No, I don't want some Skittles." The young Turkish man tightened his black P-coat around his chest and dipped his scruffy chin back into the high collar.
