In the thirteenth hour of the music festival, Ty’s energy had come and gone. His phone was smashed and his group of friends, Diana, Josh and Sandra had dispersed and his calm demeanor and firm grasp of logic started to unravel.
“Where am I going, J,” Thomas asked his brother. He rolled through the empty intersection after the light turned green. It was Saturday evening and Thomas’s foot bounced in place with impatience.
“I don’t have the address,” Joe said slowly. Joe had reclined his chair all the way back and stared at the street lamps illuminating the road and walkways. Joe is dressed for a party, but his face is prepped for a funeral.