Fugit

"Just run with it, doesn't matter where."

It was dark, but I could see well enough. His eyes gave me all the light I needed.

"I'm nervous," I said, unsure what he had planned for me.

"What if I get caught?"

"You won't if you keep running."

Then he handed me a pen.

Bones

Washing bones is one thing, selling them is quite another. It's a dirty, desperate, dangerous business. Just getting the bones is difficult enough.

My delivery boys have that covered, and they're competent enough to keep the organ dealers off my back. Away from my spine.

They know the rules. They trade meat, I trade bones. That's how it is, and neither of us are planning on changing. Business is good, but we could always do with more...