John snorts, but his response is cut off: the hair prickles on the back of his neck as he recognizes the music and Robert Johnson starts singing, blues walkin' like a man. The road jigs to the left and as he comes around the bend he sees the flashing lights and slows. Two cars halfway into the ditch, highway patrol pulled up behind and an ambulance in front. An officer waves them by. The girl rests her head against the window to look back. "Don't worry," she says. "No one died."
no subject
Oh, good chills here. Nice.