The bell rang above the creak of the door as he entered a cluttered shop.

Every corner held memories for Jacob. It was his hometown. This is where many good stories began and where many bad stories ended.

...the most battered, scarred, beautiful guitar he’d ever seen.

A shimmer in the air made Jean look up. The delivery man was frozen, holding a case of beer. It wasn’t the strangest thing he had seen in his role, not by a long way.

Jacob sat at the kitchen table, staring into his morning coffee with Billy on his mind. He was going to miss him.

But it never happened.

Matt turned down the street, looking through the windshield of his bug. The wipers stuttered back and forth in the light rain.

Jacob leaned the bike over. He still felt cold from last night, and the troubling dream of the crowd lingered in his mind. He pulled his leathers off, hoping the sun and maybe a little exercise, would warm him. A wry grin played on his lips. He would be getting some of that.