I kept weaving my way toward the mouth of the Port of Los Angeles, moving swiftly but cautiously around the warehouses. I hadn’t seen any sign of Cal or the goons.
The sun was starting to set, creating a beautiful pinkish glow on the horizon. The evening air was a symphony of seagull screeches and tugboat horns and passing trucks, and smelled of saltwater and diesel exhaust.
I was hiding behind a giant metal crate watching the road when I saw Tiffany’s red convertible coming toward me.
I quickly stepped out from behind the crate and stuck my thumb out…
Neville Hunt over 3 years ago
Love the descriptions in para 2. I’m there with Jake, hearing and smelling!
Christopher over 3 years ago
Thanks, Neville. I've never been to Los Angeles so I have to do a lot of research through pictures, old and new, and I noticed in a lot of the color ones how pink the sky is there at sunset.