Wednesday's Boy

It begins, each day, with a boy.

On Wednesday the boy’s name was Jenkins. It was either his first name or his last, embroidered into the back of his baseball cap; a ratty red thing with a big white A on the front. Thumbs in his pockets, eyes on the ground, he kicked idly at pebbles. It was in this fashion that Wednesday’s boy reached the wall at the end of Monk’s Head Alley—and stared down into the hole.