Rothko Orange and Yellow2

Rothko Orange and Yellow2Rothko Old Gold over WhiteRothko Old Gold over White 1956Rothko Number 5
was standing ten feet from Vladimir Laputa’s front door. This wasn’t a wise place to engage in a phone chat with one of the restless dead.“Ofay, you know that four-five I shoulda capped you with last night?”In his mind’s eye, Hazard saw Calvin Roosevelt, alias Hector X, on the lawn outside Reynerd’s apartment house, both hands around a .45, squeezing off a shot, who it would be.He was wet. Cold. … Scared.The phone continued to ring.He needed either to think hard about this or to think about it never again, and he couldn’t make up his mind which way to go while he stood here, on the mother-killer’s porch.He shoved the ringing phone into a jacket pocket, turned his back to the door, and descended the steps, into the rain once more.the muzzle spitting fire in the rain.“Check this out, queerboy. You get here, I have me somethin’ [487] bigger than my four-five I’ll shove up your ass, and then all the eastlies can jam you, too. Gonna see you soon.”Hazard pressed END, and at once the phone rang in his hand. No need to answer it, no way to answer it, knowing