Verdi is a Terrier of no club, wired from eyebrows to paws, fixing trouble by causing slightly less trouble. Most evenings Verdi dives the lower mall after rain season for tiles that still have color until the lanterns are out and the soup stalls close. There is a corner of the leaning tree where Verdi is unofficially assumed to be in charge of nothing in particular. Verdi may not know the truth of the old world, but that never stops a good theory from becoming lunch talk.