We leaned back against the bumpers of a couple cars, half in , half out of the garage green room of the venue, a warehouse behind the VFW. Railroad tracks, a dozen junked Subarus, mist rising from river to city roof tops to inky stars.
“Is it raining?” Bran said, “ I unloaded 3 bags of stucco and left them by the front door when I left. Shit.”
Teddy leaned over and gently filled my plastic cup again. Damp concrete echoed the shuffle of feet, and music from the opening act spilled out the other end of the…Read more