The local mall is rundown but still used. A sleazy population of gangs occupies the stores on the inside; you enter at your own risk.
Tables line the rows of the adjacent parking lot; the less adventurous shop out in the open. I have always been one of the less adventurous. My objective was to search the tables and with any luck find a pair of shoes. I have been searching for weeks.
As I stepped into the crowd, the putrid stench of gutter-rats attacked my nose. Hunting in packs, the little thieves were everywhere. True fact, the Runt used to be one of them before Tony took the boy under his wing. It has been a bumpy road for all of us.
As I was shopping, I hear a crash, a table is knocked over and a baby starts to cry. Without hesitation, I back away from the disturbance.
I know all too well not to run to the aid of a crying baby or you lose everything to a smelly thief.