Jacob didn’t have to open his eyes to know that he was lying on wet cobblestone. The once pink-lit, loud alley outside the Barking Lily was drained of color and sound. The band had finished their set and all he could hear was water falling from a downspout. He steadied himself against a brick wall, almost smiled at the thought of his explanation. Cell phone, gone. Wallet, gone. But the smell of her was still on him.
by Amy Burns of Glasgow
