Filling Aunty Up I

THE alley reeked of stale beer and something metallic, a scent Deena knew too well from her youth. Grime coated the brick walls, a mosaic of graffiti obscuring any original color. She clutched her handbag tighter, the strap digging into her shoulder as she navigated the uneven pavement.

Harper’s text, a frantic string of emojis and garbled words about a brawl, had dragged her from her peaceful morning coffee. The nerve of that boy. She rounded a dumpster overflowing with ...