Fancy that. I was wearing Byron's leather jacket to take the place of my bloodied suit jacket. There'd been a time when Ronnie had been the more sophisticated of the two of us, and I'd been the one who blushed all the time. It was just the face, and the hair.
I'd killed the men that did it, or helped them get killed, but all the revenge in the world wouldn't really fix what was broken. It showed his profile for a moment, and because I was in the mood to pick, I asked something I'd been debating on for weeks. I whispered, Edwin Alonzo Herman, hear me. He was staring off into the darkness, again, as if he didn't want me to see what was in his eyes.
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