“See you around, Paul.” It’s chilling hearing my name from his lips, but no more so than hearing the song he plays. The same one I always picked when an old lady gave me a quarter. “Winds of Change” by Scorpions. I waver for a second. I shouldn’t want to return for any other reason than to rat him out. I shouldn’t like him, and I’m afraid I’m gonna fall into a trap where I do.
