Chapter Three
Shannon left Minnesota. He was through with that city. What could St. Paul do for him that another city couldn't do, and perhaps do better? He figured, no big deal, simple as baking a pie. You work hard; drink hard all your life and this is where you end up, his wife disappearing, leaving him. His bank account was emptied out, she took it all. Nothing left, not a dime. He hitchhiked to Erie, Pennsylvania, checked the city out, right to the edge, or from the edge, of Lake Erie. Erie might do big things for him. Any dupe could see that. He would buy a building in the heart of the city, near the college district. He'd buy the building at a low price, and then rent out the rooms to the students. Let them pay the mortgage for him. He had learned a thing or two now.
He walked around the city, it was cold, he picked up a half dead rat, put it in his pocket, to keep his hands warm, he had no gloves. The wind coming off the lake made the city even colder than usual. The rat was half frozen, but now was moving about, returning to life, but it nestled close to his warm body, and peeked his head out now and then, his head being the size of Shannon's fist, it seemed as if it was grateful.
"Poor little fellow," Shannon said.
A flood of tears dribbled down his cheek.
"That there wind, it's goin' to kill us," he said aloud, as if the rat was his new amigo.
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