I had time to waste so I considerably slowed my pace, hoping to walk away the hours as the rainy mist faded away and was replaced by the stifling humidity of swampy New Orleans. As I walked, I considered calling Jessica back. Deep inside, I was frustrated with her, but I still wanted to listen to what she had to say. Maybe her words would finally be meaningful, or maybe she had decided a life that included me was something she didn’t truly want. As the late-night humidity intensified, I unbuttoned my light jacket to cool myself down. Then my phone rang, it was another text message. This time the text message was sent from an unknown number, so I curiously opened it to read.
“Hey sweetie, it’s Rachel.”
“We are in the French Quarter. Your boy Anthony is tapping out. This coon ass nigga is
