Robert Lory

“ George looked at his change on the bar.
He picked up a dime.
"Hey," said Shorty, "what are you doing?"
"Shut up," said Pete. "George's money is George's money. What he does with it is his business."
"Look," George said, "I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I mean, I hit you so hard my whole hand hurts. So here, you can have the dime, I won't miss it."
He pressed the dime into the man's hand. ”

“ This is a business like any place else."
"A real thriving business," mocked Shorty.
"Please, a dime, I need a dime, that's all I—"
"A dime?" George laughed. "For what, a cup of coffee? This is a high-class place. Beer costs fifteen cents here."
Shorty joined in with a snort. "Maybe he wants to call his girl."
"I need the dime," the man said, leaning on the bar for support.
"A matter of real life and death, huh?" George said.
"Yes. Look ... here, I have two cents, you take them."
Pete looked suspiciously at the two coins. "We don't sell nothing that costs two cents." ”

“ They came at him all at once, forming a pushing, elbowing, cursing, jarring mass of humanity. He glanced off one to collide with another. He escaped the punishment by a lunge to one side which ended with a crash to the cold cement floor. ”