"Wouldn't say no to better boots," says Hector. "These things've been rubbing my ankle raw for days now."
"You should've said something, Hector," Kate says. "I might've been able to adjust them."
Hector shrugs. "Wasn't worth the bother. Let's just see what these people have."
The 76, here, is one of those old elevated roads dotted with the wrecks of cars. Someone's gone to the trouble of either pushing the cars off to the side of the road or carving them apart for scrap metal, much like a lot of the old buildings on the other side of the water. Which, by the way, we don't advise looking into. It's moving, and there are things moving in it- big, blobby things that look more like living trashbags than anything especially recognizable- but it's not a particularly pleasant view. It also smells, although in its favor it's at least an organic sort of smell, but that's like saying the NYPD police stables smell better than the Arthur Kill landfill.
Someone has rammed the arm of a mannequin onto the pole that once held a 'no u-turns' sign in the middle of the road; the hand holds a crudely painted sign reading GIRARD BRIDGE, and has an arrow pointing towards the rickety, but still mostly intact, concrete-and-stone span up ahead.
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"You should've said something, Hector," Kate says. "I might've been able to adjust them."
Hector shrugs. "Wasn't worth the bother. Let's just see what these people have."
The 76, here, is one of those old elevated roads dotted with the wrecks of cars. Someone's gone to the trouble of either pushing the cars off to the side of the road or carving them apart for scrap metal, much like a lot of the old buildings on the other side of the water. Which, by the way, we don't advise looking into. It's moving, and there are things moving in it- big, blobby things that look more like living trashbags than anything especially recognizable- but it's not a particularly pleasant view. It also smells, although in its favor it's at least an organic sort of smell, but that's like saying the NYPD police stables smell better than the Arthur Kill landfill.
Someone has rammed the arm of a mannequin onto the pole that once held a 'no u-turns' sign in the middle of the road; the hand holds a crudely painted sign reading GIRARD BRIDGE, and has an arrow pointing towards the rickety, but still mostly intact, concrete-and-stone span up ahead.