![]() ![]() The police weren't used to a Negro in Watts going into business for himself. I was put out by the roust but not surprised. The freckled and frowning cop used his left hand to take the letter from me. "This letter," I said, "is from the office of the head librarian downtown." I removed a sheet of paper and handed it over slowly. I reached for a paper folder at the far end of the table, and the cop standing over me let his right hand drift toward his "Front'a each page marked discarded," I said, editing out all unnecessary words as I spoke. "Stole 'em?" the dark-haired cop asked from across the room. ![]() I was sitting in my favorite swivel chair behind the makeshift table-desk that I used for book sales and purchases. "Where'd you get all these books, son?" the other cop asked, looking down on me. The dark one wandered around the room, flipping through random books, looking, it seemed, for some kind of contraband. I hadn't called them, of course a black man has to think MY USED-BOOK STORE had been open for just about a month when the police showed up. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including ![]()
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