Stan s Parlay
‘You know… people always amuse me.’ ‘What? Who are you?’ replied James. James was a man in his early forties, well built, a little above medium height. His black hair was starting to gray at the temples, but his beefy frame showed no apparent signs of age. James sat at a table at a corner bistro under an umbrella in the shade, alone until a moment ago, and he had been reading the newspaper in the relatively still air of early afternoon, sipping on his coffee. ‘You can call me Stan, I guess,’...