you don't recover from a night like this

[Ryan de le Poer]

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SOMEWHERE THERE'S A CRACK IN THE SIDEWALK
BIGGER THAN THE SHADOW OF DEATH IN THIS TOWN

She smiled at him, watching as his dark form moved in the shadows of the dying day and knelt before the headstone. She leaned forwards, hands grasping the stone on either side of her thighs, and watched as his fingers outlined the engraved letters. She found it humorous that he would still try and help her with the whole reading thing, as if he thought that she would really pick it up. It had to be harder than he made it sound, didn’t it? It couldn’t really be that easy. She got up from the grave marker, wandering over to stand behind Jefferson, peering at the letters he had just read. Maybe he was right. Maybe the reading thing wasn’t so bad after all. "Where do you live, Jefferson," she abruptly asked, thinking maybe she could convince him into playing escort.

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