Dave had come to East Hollow, New Hampshire earlier this year, in the summer. He'd taken a job at a local bar where he worked until closing time. Not great hours but, beggars can't be choosers, right? He didn't have a car, or more importantly, he'd lost his license. Again. This time he thought he might not get it back. So he walked home from the bar at night alone. This wasn't the kind of town you had to worry about being mugged in. Plus he didn't mind getting a little space after being cooped up in that stuffy, stink-ass bar for 8 hours.

There was only ever one minor problem with the walk home. One street, which made the difference between a 15 minute walk and a 30 minute walk. And here he was. He always hated walking this street. He knew it was stupid, but this street creeped him out. But it was the fastest way home from work and he wasn't some pussy, so he usually took it.

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The car rolled to a stop and he took his foot off the break and put it in park. He sat there for a minute letting the car idle, looking into the trees, down the path he’d be walking in a few seconds to meet her. With a sharp inhale, he shut the car off, opened the door and stepped out all in one fluid motion, as if to make sure he couldn’t stop himself. Then he shut the door and walked toward the path.

He was nervous. Real nervous. He didn’t know why. There was no real reason for it. They’d talked on the phone, from the safety of their own homes, for hours. Got along great, were very natural together. Had even gone out together a few times – “properly distanced” of course. But he’d still never seen her face.

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But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain. – Bob Dylan, May 1963

Paranoia strikes deep.
Into your life it will creep. – Stephen Stills, Dec 1966

You don’t really need to find out what’s going on.
You don’t really want to know just how far It’s gone.
Just leave well enough alone. – Don Henley, Oct 1982

The day they blew out the brains of the king,
Thousands were watching, no one saw a thing. – Bob Dylan, Mar 2020

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