Writing

Hilfiger

The streets of Echo Park were wet and unlit. It had just stopped raining and the lights had gone out in the storm.

One well-dressed man approached another.

“I’ll give you five bucks for your watch.”

The man with the watch was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that protruded from the sleeves of his jacket—a red, white and blue Tommy Hilfiger windbreaker.

“Five bucks! You got to be kidding.”

“Alright, ten.”

“It’s a fucking Rolex, asshole.”

The moon was full over the Stadium. The rain had lasted nearly a week. The Dodgers had just been put up for sale.

“Fifteen’s my final offer.”

“Fuck off!”

At that, the buyer hit the seller over the head with a baseball bat.

The seller fell to the ground. The buyer proceeded to remove the Rolex from the seller’s left wrist. He put the watch in one of his own pockets, and, from another he took out a ten dollar bill and a five. He placed the money into the pocket of the seller’s Tommy Hilfiger jacket.

The buyer walked away quickly, but he did not run.

The rain started to fall again.

Fifteen going once, going twice..

Originally appeared in Common Criminals

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