The Blurring of Time Passing.

“You won’t pass me, motherfucking Kia” his nasaly drone wore on… An old western cattle drive played through the recording again. This time it got clearer. They had adjusted the music to hear themselves think. To hear each other at least, as they sang along with the ballad. A ghastly take of an old standard

The Dull Thump of a Bulletproof Car.

I listened to the smooth jazz lilting from the restaurant’s speakers. Not so much a swanky place as it was an old pub, someplace that pulled up every damp feeling you’ve ever felt drip over you while watching a crime drama. Just a hole in the wall. The burger squished against my teeth as I