And then he suddenly unclips his black wristwatch. “I don’t have much, but I wanna give you something too.” He leans further over the middle console, to reach me, and as his fingers close over my wrist, adrenaline seeps through my veins. I feel dizzy. Transported to another dimension. “It’s engraved and everything,” he says. “Fancy shit.” He grins as he shows me the back casing of the watch. A crudely scratched “D” is legible in the silver. He must’ve used a knife.
