บท 9: Chapter 9

Justin cleared his throat. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s not a problem,” the guy said, and Justin wished he could remember his name. Was it Dale? Darryl? He’d said it, back at his house, but Justin had missed it because he’d been having a goddamn breakdown or whatever the fuck that was. The guy had a nice voice, low and calm like he was talking to some spooked animal, and Justin wondered if it always sounded like that, or if Justin really was that pathetic. Yeah, probably the second one.

Justin sneaked a glance at the guy as they passed under another streetlight. He was maybe in his late thirties, though Justin was never great at judging age. He had a dark beard that hid the planes of his face, and long hair pulled back into a messy bun. More hipster than biker though, Justin decided. His dark hair was a little gray at the temples, and there were flashes of silver in his beard.