Graveyard
   By Adrian Mailenna

I hate working graveyard at the pawn shop. It depresses me, the druggies scraping for another hit, the gangfights and the accidents. I don't hear them anymore, only the ambulances.
One went by, few nights back. It was raining. A kid came in ten minutes later, soaked and depressed. "What happened out there?" I asked.
"Drunk," he explained, setting down a battered ring box. "Can't keep this."
It was an engagement ring, brand-new. "Two hundred," I offered. He looked worse. "Two-fifty."
He took the money, numbly.
"Get turned down?"
He broke down and cried. "Never got to ask..."

---
Copyright 2004 Adrian Mailenna.
   Personal use encouraged. All other rights reserved.
   ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/adrian_mailenna