Amos Jenkins curled his wrinkled fingers around the firm interior of his coat pocket. Each footfall on the snowy sidewalk reminded him of how desperately he desired the warmth of his bed. His body was becoming too tired and withered for this walk and each day he knew it more. It only made matters worse that he never felt safe walking through this part of town at night. The air smelled always of car oil and exhaust, each alley Amos walked past reeked of garbage, he could almost see the stench seeping out of dumpsters and leaky trashcans behind restaurants and smoke shops. Despite all of this he loved this city, when his kids lived with him, they would all look out at the view he had from his apartment window every night. The Detroit skyline was a brilliant shining curtain of stars that spread out for them to see.

            It was magical, but he also knew that for all its magic it was not the safest city in the world, at least not his part of it. So, back when the kids were younger, against his wife’s wishes he met up with a friend of his from work who knew a guy and bought himself a pair of shiny brass knuckles. He had never used them, never really intended to, but having their weight in his pocket had always made him feel safer.

            The cold traced longing circles against his cheek so Amos tugged the collar of his winter coat up further to force it out, wishing he had not forgotten his scarf that morning. Amos could feel the dry cold in his shaking bones as he looked up to check his path down the street. Only twenty feet or so and he would be on his block and home free. Nineteen feet, there was a couple across the street huddled against their car. Eighteen, a wino dragged himself across the parallel street towards the nearest bar. Seventeen, his neighbor’s college age son Brian huddled up in a large puffy coat, sneaking cigarettes against a telephone booth only a few feet away. Sixteen, a hand grasps Amos by the shoulder of his coat and drags him off his feet into the nearest alleyway. Whiplash twirled Amos’s concepts of his surroundings, pain snaked its way through his hip and lower back where his body knocked into the wall of the alley.

            “Make this easy and empty your wallet fast.” The voice came out gruff, strict, and straight to the point. Amos collected his senses and stared at the man. He was young, likely early thirties from what Amos could make out in his eyes and through the thin cloth mask that covered his face. “Don’t make me laugh” Amos said with a smile on his face.

            “I’m an old geezer what kind of treasures are you expecting to get from me? Some pocket hard candy?” Amos chuckled.

            The mugger’s left arm pressed against Amos’s chest and with his right he lurched forward and backhanded Amos. His head spun as the mugger reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something Amos couldn’t quite make out between the blow to the head and the darkness. A cold metallic *CLICK* came from it and Amos knew immediately what it was. The mugger placed the barrel end against the old man’s forehead and the chill of it pricked his skin. “Are we taking this seriously now?” the mugger asked. He smirked and fear reached into Amos and began to strangle his aging heart.

            “Ok, I’ll give you everything I have.” Amos frantically reached into his pocket and found his wallet. Right next to his wallet however, he felt something else, the familiar weight of his brass knuckles. He wasn’t an idiot, the chances he could get a hit off before this criminal could shoot were low, resigning from any courage he might have had, he grasped onto his wallet and pulled all the money he could out of it.

            “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” A voice shouted from the entrance of the alley way. The mugger’s head shot in the direction of the alley opening and Amos found his chance. In the most fluid motion he had had in years Amos let his wallet fall to the ground, slid his fingers into the brass knuckles and flung his fist out his pocket and into his attacker’s face. Amos felt the pressure of the man’s jaw snap under the weight of the knuckles, he had definitely broken his own wrist in the process but it would be worth it.

            The mugger fell to the floor, and Amos did not stick around long enough to see what happened to him, he grabbed his wallet from the ground and shuffled towards the street. “Are you alright sir? I heard a scuffle and came to check it out.” The voice said it with such concern that Amos felt a great sense of relief. He finally looked at who it was in front of him and realized it was Brian fresh from the phone booth, traces of smoke still hanging around him. “I’m a bit banged up but I will be alright, thank you, young man” Amos said gratefully.

            “That’s a mean right hook you have there sir.” Brian said with a smirk. Amos laughed, which made his head hurt.

            “Mean and illegal in most states, let’s get out of here before we call the cops on him” Brian slung Amos’s right arm over his left shoulder and together they shuffled their way on down the street.