As the rain began to fall, the city seemed to sigh. On the twenthy-third floor it was too early to tell if that sigh was relief or consternation. Or what kind of business it would bring. The rain always brought business. I relied on it as much as the farmers of old. Stupid people used the cover of dark clouds, the roar of thunder and the cleansing rain, to try and hide their crimes. Maybe they weren’t stupid. Desperate would be a better word. Acts of desperation that grew in proportion to the storms they were committed in. And tonight’s storm was shaping up to be a doozy.

Heady thoughts for an alcoholic looking for work.

Out on the balcony, I poured myself another shot and let the rain breathe on it before raising the shot glass in salute to the city. I could feel the tension thickening out there, like watching someone over-inflate a balloon. It wouldn’t be long now. Something would have to pop and when it did, my city would need me.

Less than an hour had passed before my phone rang. Right on schedule.