The bell above the tobacco shop door jingled. Jimmy turned to see who could be stopping by at such a late hour. He was busy counting inventory, too busy to spend time chatting with a customer. He did this to forget, drowning himself in mounds of paperwork and bottles of scotch. Anything he could do to dull the pain and drive away the memories of her. So far his father’s store was thriving, he had discovered the perfect cure for a hangover, and he was utterly miserable. She was everywhere. A faint scent in the air, a smile on another woman, the color of the sky reminding him of her eyes, a distant laugh. Then there were his dreams, nightly erotic fantasies driving a stake through his heart. He wanted to forget, he needed to forget, but he could only remember, and it was driving him mad.
“M
