Sorcerer

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“He’s still out there.”

As he sat up, Jeff’s perspiration-soaked back peeled away from the bed sheet. He squinted drowsily at the clock on the nightstand. The numbers were a jumbled blur. “What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Perhaps carelessly, Eden stood nude at the apartment window. “I needed something cold to drink.” She held up a bottle of water in evidence. “It’s after midnight and he’s still out there.”

“Of course he is.” Jeff swung his feet to the floor. “That’s where he lives.”

“It’s ridiculous. No one should be living on the streets in this day and age.”

“I’d call the cops,” he said through a yawn, “but they won’t do anything.”

“Why would calling the police be your first reaction? He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s not a criminal, Jeff, he’s homeless.”

“Let him be homeless someplace else.”

“Don’t be so cruel.” Eden ran the cool plastic bottle across her brow and down along her flushed cheek. “He’s harmless.”

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