The boys stand in the slim shade of the plaza’s only tree.

“Pretty dead, man.” Tranh leans between his handlebars and spits. “Pretty boring.”

“They’ll unlock it soon,” says Nguyen. “They have to. What happened to your mask?”

“Too fucking hot.” Tranh pats his pocket. “Any cop sees me, I’ll say I’m sorry and put it back on.”

“My old man was talking about the war last night,” says Nguyen. “How they’d ride Hondas through the town and snatch cameras from the GIs. Said Saigon was hopping then. Dangerous, though.”

“Now it’s safe and boring,” says Tranh. “Too fucking bad.”


 Friday Fictioneers



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