Opening a new chapter SaintJimmy sat inconspicuously roadside with a tattered book and crooked hair. Many times SaintJimmy had tried to finish the book so the new chapter was in fact the first chapter. Illiteracy was not uncommon during these times so the lack of progression through the book could be attributed to the simple fact that SaintJimmy could not read.

The title was a novel the boy had learned was laced with criminal suggestion while also teasing at the lifestyle he dreamed of. It was not long before attempts were discarded once more and the book lay on the sidewalk. SaintJimmy watched the people pass. There were a number of curiosities that day. Now seemed like a better time than any to offer attention to them.

First SaintJimmy observed a shuffling swarm of large hulking characters march from a local business out onto the street. Occasionally a glimpse was seen of a single individual among them. The swarm of protectors would halt and open like a receding tide. The individual in the center would allow a senior citizen to pass the crowd at which point he would steal her purse. The herd of bodyguards would then close once more and continue their shuffle down the street. SaintJimmy last saw the entourage wait for roughly three minutes before entering a post office.

The next incident was an exchange between two people he would suggest to himself were actors of some kind. The first would indicate to the pockets of the other man, to which he would nod approvingly. They would then rummage around in each others personal cavities and place in their own pockets what they found. A sum of cash was then exchanged between them. 

SaintJimmy finally witnessed a congregation of individuals in smart suits and trim hats looking down an alleyway with notable anticipation. Almost simultaneously gunfire erupted. Dozens even hundreds of shots were fired within a brief thirty second period. Pedestrians screamed and ran cowering for their lives. Almost as soon as it began it was over and the group of 15 or more men and women walked away in different directions as if nothing had happened at all.

SaintJimmy allowed himself to be curious so collected his book and approached the alley way. It was startling to find a corpse laying there with a single bullet wound to his chest. 

Illiteracy was something that SaintJimmy believed could be overcome as most things in life that troubled him and that was to keep trying. Unfortunately the amount SaintJimmy scowled at the pages would not make the symbols and letters any less alien to him. SaintJimmy knew one of the main characters names, Jay. The letters that formed that word were easy to say out loud and therefor helped to understand some of the other words but not all or many of them.

Today brought more oddities to the streets of Philadelphia and SaintJimmy was more than happy to bear witness to them. 

Furious activity was unfolding before him. A multitude of separate charades all rapidly escalating. Exciting adventures and deep personal stories. What struck SaintJimmy as curious about them was how a single person could feature so rapidly in them all at once. Moving from one event to the next it looked exhausting.

The same could be said for the individuals racing down the street and attending as many businesses at once. In and out in and out. One chap was making good progress through the locations which were one after the other like a list. That is until he tripped on a sleeping person who was laid out across the sidewalk.

It seemed strange to SaintJimmy that men and women would fall asleep on the street and leave themselves so vulnerable to attack. 

The final distraction allowed that day was observing a rather prestigious and notable member of the mob struggle with a significantly sized suitcase. SaintJimmy knew what it contained and that was 60 kilos or more of drugs. He looked at the much smaller and manageable package he personally had ownership of and wondered if the reward was worth the physical burden that Don was putting himself through. It was probably time SaintJimmy got the drugs sold on actually.

A brief stroll took SaintJimmy past the local graveyard. 

Yet more puzzling activities were taking place. It appeared that there was some serious money to be made from raking your fingernails through stone and earth. Rifling through a corpse must also hold a heavy price to encourage those willing. SaintJimmy would say something about the risk, also however there appeared to be none at all. 

Despite the dozens of funeral services taking place the dozens of open graves and equally dozens of resourceful mobsters there was not a single police officer. SaintJimmy would not witness a single one around the graveyard nor preventing the ceaseless desecration. Further investigation would show that there was not a single crime reported for the act. 

Little was surprising these days and so his book was pulled up and a bench sat on once more. SaintJimmy believed in the American Dream and it was his understanding this book was a great example of such a thing. It was set in Long Island and New York City which are two places he was itching to visit.

His nose hit the pages once more though it wasn't long before a muddied woman slumped herself down next to him with a fist full of cash.

"$500 dollars!"

"$500 dollars, whatever for??" The boy exclaimed.

"Graverobbing!"

She grinned stupidly, while SaintJimmy pondered to himself. Clearly not as lucrative as he thought, what a farce for a few dollars.

"Eeeefff"

Attention had no turned to the author of the book and SaintJimmy was endeavoring to sound out the name on the cover. 

It was noticed that the street now hosting was amassed with businesses. What was peculiar about the situation was that they appeared to have little functional purpose. No goods were exchanged or cash changing hands. Nevertheless it did not stop people appearing in them and interacting with each other. SaintJimmy supposed he could think of a way to monetize the situation. If he could read.

"Coats. Scoats. Scoooots. Scooooot."

F Scott.

The last word was long. There was another 'f' and a 'z' and a host of letters he was unsure how to repeat the sound of.

Another distracting thought was that of civilian life. SaintJimmy had witnessed civilians on the streets. And the occasional police officer though he expected they were corrupt especially since they did nothing to prevent the grave robbing's. There were no politicians or lawyers or police chiefs. The mayor was rarely seen too. 

Life might be considerably different if there were more civilian figures he proposed.