The three of them stood in a wedge. Their street clothes were a little too immaculately kept to be anything other than work clothes. The one in front smiled wide. He had short grey hair atop a block of a head set on top of a granite body wrapped in a black silk shirt and black jeans. While not fat, his body said mass in no uncertain terms. He could sink a boat just looking at it. He and Santana were sizing each other up like meat in a deli window.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Chapter 17 is at 1668 words. Yep, I like this writing on your lunch hour thing. Of course there was a quick confrontation, which I seem to do well at. The next part will be more difficult. I'm thinking of stopping the chapter here. The story has advanced a bit, and there is another good breaking point. My guess is that in rewrite it'll expand to near 2000 words.