FICTION!

He had no compassion for homeless people—to him, they were an ugly boil on the face of the city, parasites that threatened the very fabric of the community. He reflected on his meteoric rise to the top of the legal world, clawing his way from a humble, working-class family, through a modest Cal State LA Law School, to building his own office by initially taking on less-than- prestigious cases that top lawyers had shunned, to finally developing a ferocious knack for scandalous murder trials that put him on the evening news. If he could make it, there was no reason for anyone else to sleep on the sidewalk or comb through trash cans.

As he approached the city, the drivers around him tried to maneuver their cars ahead of one another, as if a big prize was awaiting the one arriving first. Stanley could hear their incessant honking as they zigzagged in and out of lanes. But his silver Bentley was like a Roman galley warship rising through rough water, smashing all obstacles in its wake. His hand gripped the fine leather on the steering-wheel. His body pressed against the soft skin of the seats. His reflection in the mirror was of an attractive man with a kind face imprisoned by a tight ostentatious tie. He took a slight turn toward the homeless camp, which in the general direction of his office. The dismal sight of the people he maligned in court held a sordid appeal for him.

COMING SOON to New Pop Lit!