Like Max before him, Bruce squinted into the abyss, seemingly in thought, before turning back to us and replying, “Yep, I reckon I did.”
Max pointed Bruce’s way. “You’ve been chatting with a cowboy, right?”
“Cowboys, yep. Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp, in fact. Talk about your unresolved issues.”
I slapped Bruce’s brawny chest. It made no sound, but it got his attention. “Where did you see it?” I asked, rather on the loud side. “Where?! Where?!” The loud side grew even louder.
He looked at me as if I’d gone crazy. Right about then, I think I truly had. “Didi’s head,” he replied.
“Didi’s hea….” And that’s when it hit me. I had seen those colors since I died. They didn’t look familiar to me in life; they looked familiar to me in death. As in my own. “Her scarf! That Hermes scarf!”
“f**k,
