Old school

     The old gentleman slowly walked the streets of his city. A sheepish grin upon his weathered face. People passing by, he tipped a make-believe hat to the ladies and smiled that grin to the want to be gangsters. He stepped to the beat in his mind, his spats clean and polished. His suit was tailor-made, his tie red silk. He carried a closed umbrella that some select few discovered its hidden secret. He was a man with a past, an illustrious history that time had all but forgotten. No more wanted posters on telephone poles, no more fear of being noticed. He was just an old man who knew how to dress walking the city streets that he had once paved with blood. No more Tommy guns blazing as he stood on the running board of a black sedan. No more secret hideouts, no more hiding, just an old gentleman enjoying a mid-day stroll past five banks that kept him in the lifestyle he had grown to love.

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