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Flashback

It was dusk when I got my first glimpse of it off in the distance, beyond a ridge. All I could see were the spires and blocky tops of buildings. And then we reached the crest of the ridge, and there was a huge a space of land tip to tip with skyscrapers, their glass glowing like fire in the setting sun.

My heart started to race, and my palms grew damp. I walked down the bus aisle to the tiny restroom and in the rear and washed up in the metal basin. I studied my face in the mirror and wondered what the people in Atlanta would think when they looked at me. Would they see a hick, a tall, gawky girl, still all elbows and knees and jutting teeth? For years Lori had been telling me I had an inner beauty. Most people didn't see it. I had trouble seeing it myself, but Lori was always saying she could damn well see it and that was what mattered. I hoped when the city people looked at me, they would see whatever it was that Lori saw.

When the bus pulled into the terminal, I collected my suitcase and walked to the middle of the station. A blur of hurrying bodies streamed past me, leaving me feeling like a stone in a creek, and then I heard someone calling my name. He was a pale guy with thick, black-framed glasses that made his eyes look tiny. His name was Evan, and he was a friend of Lori's. She was at work and had asked him to come meet me. Evan offered to carry my suitcase and led me out to the street, a noisy place with crowds backed up waiting to cross the intersection, cars jammed together, and papers blowing every which way. I followed him right into the thick of it.

After one block, Evan put down my suitcase. "This is heavy," he said. "What do you have in here?"

"My coal collection."

He looked at me blankly.

"Just jokin' with ya," I said and punched him in the shoulder. Evan wasn't too quick on the uptake, but I took that as a good sign. There was no reason for me to be automatically in awe of the wit and intellect of these Atlanta people.

I picked up the suitcase. Evan did not insist I give it back to him. In fact, he seemed sort of relieved that I was carrying it. We continued down the block, and he kept glancing at me sideways.

"You Jackson girls are one tough breed," he said.

"You got that right," I told him.

Evan dropped me off at a German restaurant called Zum Zum. Lori was behind the counter, carrying four beer steins in each hand, her hair in twin buns and speaking in a thick German accent because, she explained later, it increased tips. "Dees ees mein seester!"she called out to the men at one of her tables. They raised their beer steins and shouted, "Velkomen to Atlanta!"

I didn't know any German, so I said, "Grazi!"

They all got a chuckle out of that. Lori was in the middle of her shift, so I went out to wander the streets. I got lost a couple of times and had to ask directions. People had been warning me for months about how rude people in Atlanta were. It was true, I learned that night, that if you tried to stop them on the street, a lot of them kept on walking, shaking their heads; those who did stop didn't look at you first. They gazed off down the block, their faces closed. But as soon as they realized you weren't trying to hustle them or panhandle money, they warmed right up. They looked you in the eye and gave you detailed instructions about how, to get to Emory college, you went up nine blocks and made a right and cut across two blocks and so on. They even drew you maps. People in Atlanta, I figured, just pretended to be unfriendly.

Later, Lori and I took a bus down to the Evangeline, a women's hostel where she had been living. That first night I woke up at three a.m. and saw the sky all lit up a bright orange. I wondered if there was a big fire somewhere, but in the morning Lori told me that the orange glow came from the air pollution refracting the light off the streets and buildings. The night sky here, she said, always had that color.

The very next day, I landed a job at a hamburger joint on Fourteenth Street. After taxes and social security, I'd be taking home over eighty dollars a week. I had spent a lot of time imagining what Atlanta would be like, but the only thing that had never occurred to me was that the opportunities would come so easily. Aside from having to wear those embarrassing red-and-yellow uniforms with matching floppy hats, I loved the job. The lunch and dinner rushes were always exciting, with the lines backing up at the counter, the cashiers shouting orders over the microphones, the grill guys shoveling hamburgers through the flame-broiling conveyer belt, everyone running from the fixings counter to the drinks station to the infrared fries warmer, staying on top of the orders, the manager jumping in to help whenever a crisis cropped up. We got 20 percent off on our meals, and for the first weeks there, I had a cheeseburger and a chocolate milk shake every day for lunch.

In the middle of the fall, after I had already started taking classes at Emory every day and working late hours every night, Lori found us an apartment in a neighborhood we could afford. The yellow art deco building must have been pretty fancy when it opened, but now graffiti covered the outside walls, and the cracked mirrors in the lobby were held together with duct tape. Still, it had what Mom would've called good bones.

Our apartment was bigger than the entire house in the trailer park, and way fancier. It had shiny oak parquet floors, a foyer with two steps leading down into the living room—where I slept—and off to the side, a bedroom that became Lori's. We also had a kitchen with a working refrigerator and a gas stove that had a pilot light, so you didn't need matches to get it going, you just turned the dial, listened to the clicking, then watched the circle of blue flame flare up through the tiny holes in the burner. My favorite room was the bathroom. It had a black-and-white tile floor, a toilet that flushed with a powerful whoosh, a tub so deep you could submerge yourself completely in it, and hot water that never ran out.

It didn't bother me that the apartment was in a rough neighborhood; we'd always lived in rough neighborhoods. Puerto Rican kids hung out on the block at all hours, playing music, dancing, sitting on abandoned cars, clustering at the entrance to the bus station and in the front of the bodega that sold cigarettes called loosies. I got jumped a number of times. People were always telling me that if I was robbed, I should hand over my money rather than risk being killed. But I was darned if I was going to give some stranger my hard-earned cash, and I didn't want to become known in the neighborhood as an easy target, so I always fought back. Sometimes I won, sometimes I lost. What worked best was to keep my wits about me. Once, as I was getting on a train, some guy tried to grab my purse, but I jerked it back and the strap broke. He fell empty-handed to the platform floor, and as the train pulled out, I looked through the window and gave him a big sarcastic wave.

That spring I started looking for jobs in the medical field where my new-found knowledge could be put to use. I found an internship at St. Joseph's Hospital which was very close to Emory. The chief of staff was Mike Armstrong. He seemed like a very tired man that worked too much and so did a lot of the others working there. In the spring, when Mr. Armstrong was interviewing medical students from Emory one girl named Clara went in and the next thing I knew she was walking out in disgust and Mr. Armstrong called out, "Sorry sweetheart, but we don't take broads that have bartender on their resume!"

After she'd left, Mr. Armstrong looked at me. The Atlanta zoning board was meeting that afternoon and he had no one to take care of the paperwork. "If you start calling me Mike instead of Mr. Armstrong," he said, "you can have the job."

I had just turned seventeen. I quit my job at the hamburger joint the next day and became a full-time medical intern for St. Joseph's. I'd never been happier in my life. I worked ninety-hour weeks, my telephone rang constantly, rushing back to file copies of medical records, and staying up until four a.m. to plan everything ahead for Mr. Armstrong for the next week. And I was bringing home $250 dollars a week.

Soon enough I ended my first year of college with my four-year free ride scholarship.

Once the second year of school started, I could no longer pay my share of the rent, but a psychologist let me have a room in her apartment in exchange for looking after her two small sons. I still worked at St. Joseph's in the day time and on the weekends and Mike was still thankful.

My life went on like that for a while and Dad called us now and then to bring us up to date on life in the Tracks. I began to dread those calls, since every time we heard about them, there was a new problem: Anna had to sleep outside because the ceiling caved in; the stairs had been totally wiped out; Anna had fallen off the porch and gashed her head.

When Lori heard that, she declared it was time for Anna to move to Atlanta, too. But Anna was only eight, and I worried that she might be too young to leave home. The Tracks, was all she really knew.

"Who's going to look after her?" I asked.

"I will," Lori said. "She can stay with me."

Lori called Anna, who got squealy with excitement about the idea, and then Lori talked to Dad. Dad accused Lori of stealing his children and declared he disowned her. Anna arrived in early winter. Lori had moved into an apartment near Howell Mill Road and we enrolled Anna in a good public school called Brandon Elementary School. On weekends, I had dinner at Lori's apartment. We made fried pork chops or heaping plates of spaghetti and meatballs and sat around talking about the Tracks, laughing so hard at the idea of all that craziness that our eyes watered.

Present Day

I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night after my encounter with Shane. Instead I stayed up deciding my plan of action, how I would get him out of my life.

When the sun came up that morning I walked over to Anna and shook her awake. I didn't want her out of my sight for the rest of the day.

We walked down stairs and were greeted with the lovely smell of a home cooked meal. Eggs were popping on the fryer and I could even smell bacon. My mouth watered and Anna's eyes widened, but since we've been eating breakfast within our own group for the past few days I decided not to interfere on the Greene family's breakfast and walked out the front door where I could see all the guys and Andrea surrounding my truck once again.

I sighed and walked up to them. Shane was there, but I tried my best to ignore the pig headed bastard and asked, "What's goin' on?"

Rick looked at me and steadily replied what Shane already told me, "We want to learn more about Randall and his people. Could you go in there and ask him a few questions? If he doesn't give you good answers I'm afraid we're going to have to step in."

I pretended to act like I was listening to new information and that I hadn't already gone in to see Randall, "Oh, yeah, sure. I'm positive he'll tell me. After all he's been through with you two I wouldn't be surprised if he spilled his guts to me. No pun intended."

Rick furrowed his brows, "What do you mean by what he's been through with us?" he asked quizzically.

"I don't mean any offense by it, Rick. I mean I'm sure he's thankful that you decided not to leave him there, as he should be, but after what happened yesterday I'm sure he's worried about us like we're worried about his people, maybe even more," Rick nodded his head in understanding at this. "So, I'm going to go interrogate him, I guess and…yeah, see ya soon," I said with mock sarcasm and with Annabelle beside me we went to the little shed where they were keeping Randall.

I unlocked the door and when Anna stepped inside with me I shut the door behind her and turned my attention to Randall who was sitting in a chair in the center of the room with his hands ties behind his back. He smiled up at me with his crooked teeth, "Daisy, oh man, you've gotta get me out of here! These people are crazy!"

Grabbing a chair in the far corner, I pulled it in front of him and sat myself down in it so the back of the chair was to my chest. I draped my arms over the back and said, "I'm gonna have to ask you some questions Randall and you're gonna answer me, alright? I don't want any bullshit."

Randall nodded his head rapidly, "No bullshit, I promise boss."

"Okay, how many men do you have in your group?" was my first question. We should know their numbers, right?

He licked his lips, "We have around thirty men."

"Women?"

"None." He answered surely.

"Children?"

"None." He looked up at me and gave me a small smile, "Oh man, how I wish I stayed with you and the others."

I nodded and then went on to my next question, "Fighting skills. How many have 'em?"

"They can all shoot guns well, but hand-to-hand combat…I swear only about twenty are good at it. A lot of them are old ya know?"

I took that as a good answer, but if they all had weapons we may as well be screwed, "What kind of weapons do ya'll have?"

He shrugged, "They have pretty heavy stuff. Automatics."

I bit my bottom lip, nervous for Randall's life at this point, "How many?"

Randall raised his brows, "How many what? Weapons?" I nodded, "Well, they all have at least one or two…" he said with his eyes going down sadly. When I saw this I knew Randall was speaking in honesty. He was a good person, despite what his shooting at Rick, Hershel, and Glenn. He was just doing that to stay in the group he was in, that's how it worked.

Now positive that he was speaking in all honesty I asked him, "Randall, do you believe that your group will come back and look for you in that one town?"

Sadly, Randall shook his head, "I don't think so. They move quickly. I've seen it all happen before. Once one is gone they're quick to pick up and leave again. We were headin' west."

Like how Jack, Diego and Annabelle and I moved after Randall disappeared.

Finally, I got up from the chair and pushed it back to its place in the corner. Randall looked up at me with worried eyes and asked in his rather loud and annoying voice, "Will they kill me, Daisy?"

I shook my head, "I don't know…I don't think they will. If anything, they'll just dump you, but I promise I'll be there when they do."

With that Anna and I walked out of the shed and locked the door. We walked away from the shed to the group who was standing by the still kindling fire underneath the large tree in front of the Greene family's home.

"They have heavy artillery and around thirty men. Randall admitted to us that he believes the group won't start a fight. He says they move quickly, once they go through a town they're done. Don't wage wars like you are brutally expecting to happen. Personally, I think Randall was just a weak link to them. From what I've seen of him in the past he doesn't even have a good shot," I explained this immediately to Rick and the others before they could ask. Dale handed me and Anna a peach and I took mine with thanks, biting into its juicy splendor.

Daryl looked at me from across the fire and nodded in approval. Shane rolled his eyes at this as Rick said, "No one goes near this guy." The group started voicing their opinions all at once and Shane argued that they should kill him, which Rick and Dale weren't too keen on. Anna and I finished our peaches as we listened to them argue and Andrea finally sided on Rick and Dale's side. I threw the peach pit into a small trash bucket and Anna did the same as we walked out of the fray and the strange thing is, nobody noticed us heading towards the shed, not even Shane. But when I turned around just to make sure no one was following I saw Daryl come up to us.

"Where d'ya think you're goin'?" Daryl asked.

Anna looked up at him and said, "Guarding Randall."

He looked down at Anna and grimaced, "From what?"

"Who do you think?" I mumbled in a low voice. Daryl got the hint as he looked back at Shane with the most pissed off face I've seen on him in a while. Finally, I decided that I was going to tell them about last night. Just so they knew. I had a feeling Daryl was going to lose his cool once more like he sometimes does and Shane was going to retaliate in some way. Personally, I was a bit worried that Shane would hurt Daryl, maybe kill him if it came to it. Daryl is strong as hell, I know that, but anyone can be caught off guard.

When we got to the shed I told Daryl and Annabelle what happened and Anna kept quiet, looking around with worried eyes as if a walker, or Shane, would just pop out from behind her. Daryl, as I expected, got pissed off and started heading in the groups direction, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'em."

I rolled my eyes at his reaction and ran off and stepped in front of him. Putting a hand on his chest I said, "No, you're not."

"Why ya holdin' me back, Daisy? The bastard deserves hell and I'm gonne serve it up to him, like I should," Daryl spoke with conviction and agitation that was so real Anna's eyes widened in even more worry, but I knew how to handle him.

With my hand on his chest I shook my head, "If you lay a hand on him it's only going to make mine and Anna's situation worse. Yoursituation worse. I'm sorry for draggin' you into this mess, really, I am, but if you want Shane to stay away from me and Anna you need to stay away from him. If you get a fight started with him the group will be on edge and most likely not be in your favor unless you have a proper motive. Going up to him and punching him in the jaw or smashing a plate over his head ain't a good motive. Make him start the fight, not you. Now are you pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?"

Daryl nodded, but anger was still etched on his face, "Goddammit woman why do you always have to do this to me?"

I smiled at his trifling irritation and as we sat down at the side of the shed I asked, "Do what?"

"You know what," he huffed. I laughed because I knew he didn't like his mind to be changed so easily. Hey, what can I say? I have that effect on people. Daryl gave me one of the smallest smiles in the world and I was a bit taken aback when he leaned down and kissed my cheek. My smile widened at that and I rested my head against his shoulder as I watched Anna start to make a crown of wild flowers.

Everything was peaceful, but I broke the silence when I asked carefully to Daryl, "What's your opinion on this whole thing with Randall?" I said it in a hushed whisper so Randall wouldn't hear, but at this point, I don't really think it mattered.

"I think the group is getting' worked up over nothin'. They're breaking over it, but my opinion, I think we should just drop him off. Let 'em have a fightin' chance like Rick and Dale said, but honestly, I don't think it would weigh out too much on my conscience if they just killed him," Daryl replied.

I nodded at this and took it in. Daryl's opinion mattered to me, but unlike Daryl, who knew Randall as only the guy who shot at our men, I think it would weigh down on my conscience if we executed him. At the end of the day he's just a guy that wants a shot at living. He's good, maybe not the best person you'll ever meet, but still good. He doesn't want to do any harm, but must when it involves his life on the line.

Finally, I decided that I was worrying too much about it like the rest of the group.

Daryl looked out at the farm house and I followed his eyes. Carol was looking at us from washing some clothes and Daryl looked away, shook his head and scowled, "Jesus H. Christ." Anna gave him a disapproving look and Daryl looked at her, "Sorry," he mumbled out which for some reason I found funny.

Anna was one of the most religious people I know. She was tolerant of other's beliefs and once decided to be a Buddhist, Muslim and Christian all at the same time, but finally stuck to our family's Christian roots. I didn't mind it and when we're alone she would sometimes give me a quote from the Bible and she would always do her daily prayers and keep her rosary beads in her pocket. I'm not a very religious person myself. I mean I was baptized and all, but I decided to be still uncertain, but if you had to classify me under any religion it would probably be Anna's. Watching the pious little creature was refreshing.

Carol, on the other hand, is an annoying bitch to me right now, but I wasn't too worried about her at this point. Her plan to get me out of here failed. Everyone knew know what happened and the group didn't judge too much, unlike what they're doing to Randall. Anyway, I'm not going to let Carol get to me. I wouldn't mind getting rid of her like I'm trying to do with Shane.

After a while, Andrea started coming towards us with a smile and a gun in her pocket, "Hey, mind if I join you?" I shook my head and she sat down on the other side of me, "Everyone over there is arguing about what we're gonna do with the guy and it's kind of getting on my nerves, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, looking out at the farm, "What's your take on all of this?" Andrea looked at the shed, seemingly worried about Randall listening, but I shrugged, "Don't worry about him, it's not like he has that much power right now anyways."

Andrea nodded, "Well, I think we should get rid of him. He's not one of us and he can be a threat no matter if his group comes or not. Dale's fighting hard for the boy's life to be spared and I understand his reasoning, but…"

"You don't see the point in it," I finished for her, looking at her and squinting a bit from the sun, "I don't either…I kind of wish Rick and Shane just dumped him in the first place so we wouldn't be going through this right now."

She put her hands up in the air, "I know. They never explained what stopped them from doing it, but I'm guessing Rick didn't like the idea of it."

"You know what, I don't even care anymore," I said with a shrug.

Andrea smiled, "Sing it, sister."

We laughed at that and I could see a flicker of a smile on Daryl's lips as he sharpened his bows. I was surprised Daryl just decided to sit with us. It wasn't quite like him, but I think he was just worried about Anna and I and was being protective, and I'm appreciative of that.

As the sun was about to set we saw others making their way to the house and we all decided to go up and follow. The decision was going to be made tonight. Lori told Carl to stay outside because she didn't want him to hear what they had to say about the ordeal, and thinking that it was a good idea, I told Anna to do the same. She knew Randall and I knew she didn't want him to die, I could sense it. Anna and Carl walked away from the house to the fire and I smiled at them as they left.

When Daryl and Andrea and I got inside all was quiet for a while until Glenn spoke up, "So, are we just going to vote on this?"

"Does it have to be anonymous?" Andrea asked with a raise of her hand.

Rick nodded, "Let's just see where everybody stands, and then we can talk through the options."

"Not the way I see it," Shane said and I couldn't help it but to roll my eyes, "There's only one way in moving forward."

Dale looked frustrated, "Killing him. Right? Why even bother taking a vote when it's clear which way the wind is blowing."

"Well if people believe we should spare him, I want to know," said Rick.

Dale shrugged, "Well I can tell you it's a small group, maybe just me and Glenn…" he looked up at me and Daryl, but I didn't give him any response. I was a neutral in this decision.

Glenn shook his head, "You see, I think you're right about everything, but this…"

Dale's mouth hung open, "They've got you scared!"

"He's not one of us," Glenn explained, "And we've lost too many people already…"

Dale looked at me and asked, "What about you, Daisy? You know the boy and we haven't even heard your thoughts on this."

"Look, I don't want to just outright kill him in cold blood, but we can just dump him like we did before. I think his group has gone and left, but if we keep him prisoner…" I say shaking my head.

"It's just another mouth to feed," Daryl finished off and I nodded in agreement.

"We could ration better," Lori argued.

Dale nodded, "He could be an asset. Give him a chance to prove himself."

"We can put him to work," Glenn said.

Rick shook his head, "I don't want him walking around."

"We can have a guard on him," Maggie said.

"And who's willing to do that?" Shane scoffed.

"I will," Dale said, with a glare towards Shane.

Rick put his hand up, "I don't want anybody walking around with this guy."

Lori nodded, "Yeah, he's right. I wouldn't exactly feel safe around him."

Andrea put her arms around her chest, "We can't exactly put chains around him and sentence him to hard labor."

"Look," Shane started, "say we let 'em join us and maybe he's helpful and maybe he's nice and then we let our guard down and he runs and brings back his thirty men."

Dale sure did fight for Randall… "So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt?! If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. The rule of law is dead, giving in to the end of civilization."

"Oh my god..." Shane rolled his eyes.

Hershel looked hopeful as he asked, "Could you just drive him further out? Leave him like you planned."

Lori shook her head, "You barely came back this time. There are walkers you can bring down. You can get lost."

"You could get ambushed," Daryl added.

Glenn nodded, "We should not put our own people at risk."

"If you go through with it," Patricia said, "how would you go through with it? Would he feel pain?"

Shane shrugged, "We could just snap his neck." This guy was brutal and disgusting. Shane wasn't human.

"I've thought about that," Rick said, "But I think shooting would be more humane." I nodded at this. Sometimes I wish someone would've just shot me in the back of the head when this whole pandemic started.

"What about the body," T-Dog started, "Do we-."

Dale waved his arms around, "W-wait, hold on. You're talking as if this has already been decided."

"We've been talking about it all day," Daryl huffed and like him, I was getting sick of it, "We're goin' around in circles. Do you wanna just go around in circles again?" I could tell he was referring to what happened with Sophia and our failed attempts at finding her.

"This is a young man's life!" Dale argued, "And it is worth more than a five-minute conversation. Is this what we have come to? We just kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? You saved him! And now look at us. He's been tortured, he's gonna be executed! How are we better than those people that we're so afraid of?"

"We all know what needs to be done…" Shane said.

Rick shook his head, "No, Dale is right. We can't leave any stone unturned here. We have responsibil-."

"So what do we do?" Andrea cut him off, "We haven't come up with a single viable option yet."

Dale's eyes widened, "So let's work on it!"

"Just stop it! Everyone just stop it!" Carol said and for a second I had an agreement with her, "I didn't ask for this," Nope. Mind changed. Now she just looks self-serving, "You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please decide, either of you or both of you, but leave me out."

Okay, we're fine with that.I wanted to say.

"Not speaking out, or killing him yourself," Dale said, "There's no difference."

Rick rolled his eyes, "Alright that's enough. "If anyone wants the floor before we make a final decision, here's your chance."

Both Patricia and Beth sat down and no one spoke Dale started to speak again, mentioning that Rick once said that we don't kill the living. He pleaded to the group to do what's right and eventually Andrea sided with him, but the others stayed silent. Finally, I stepped out, "Randall was in my group when I was in Atlanta. He helped with getting supplies and stuff just like you did. He stayed in our group just to survive and when he found himself alone and in trouble another group aided him and took him with them. If he hadn't gotten in that situation I am sure he would've stayed with us and cause no harm. He's just a stupid kid for cryin' out loud. At first I thought letting him stay with us was a good idea, but now seeing all of you think he's just one big threat I've decided that a good compromise would be just to drop him off. He told me his group was heading west. I wouldn't mind risking my life driving the dumb ass out further east if it meant that you would all just shut up about it, no offense."

Rick grimaced, "None taken."

I uncrossed my arms from my chest, "Now, if you'll excuse me." And before I made my way out the door I said, "If anyone wants to stop me, I'm getting my truck ready to leave and get him out of here."

Daryl followed me out as I made my way to the shed. When I got inside I took the rag off the floor and Randall kept on asking what was going on as I tied it around his eyes, "We're takin' you out." I said.

Daryl grabbed Randall by the arm and pulled him to the back seat of my truck. Rick and everybody else followed us and I grabbed Anna too. I knelt to her and said, "You still know how to drive right?" Anna nodded. She learned how to drive from some small lessons by me and Lori and also how to drive by herself when Lori and I were in Atlanta, when she had to drive Dad home from the bar. "Good, because I want you to stay in the truck no matter what. If we get in a situation and Daryl and I don't get out, I want you to hop in that driver's seat and drive back to the farm. Alright?"

She nodded, "Yeah, but do you think you and Daryl won't make it out?"

I bit my bottom lip, "I'm sure we'll get out just fine, but if we don't…"

"I've got it," she said.

I smiled and kissed her on the forehead, "I love you Anna."

"I love you too, Daisy," she murmured.

The rest of the group came out to watch as I got into the driver's seat and Anna next to me with Daryl and Randall in the back. I started the car and right before I began to drive Shane ran up and hopped into the bed of my truck. Quickly I halted the truck to a stop and rolled down the window and looked at him with my best what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. But he gave me a look that made me remember what happened last night.

After a moment of dead silence, I gave him a nod, he nodded back and I drove on.

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