I went to my bedroom and when I pulled my combat boots out of the Marc Denis bag, I thought of Jesse and how close I had come to killing her just from the slightest brush of her skin against mine. Wearing my own shoes again was almost comforting, making me feel some semblance of normalcy after the strange events of the last twenty-four hours. I searched my dresser for my car keys, finding them underneath a copy of Fahrenheit 451 I had left open several days before.

                My Admiral Blue 1972 AMC Matador was the only thing in my small garage and my sole possession when I came to Miami from New Orleans in that same year. It was still all original and one of th...

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