Good For Gone

Singing on the Street

When we got back to town I dropped him off at his usual corner. As I pulled away I saw him wave to me in the rear view mirror, and I realized how much it made my stomach turn to leave him. But I needed to be alone with my thoughts for a little while.

Driving back to my dorm, I made my way up to my room quickly and fell asleep. I didn't even remember being that tired.

The next few weeks were a surprisingly happy pattern. My days were spent studying and going to class, then at night I spent my time with Tony, at band practice, or hanging out with Peter. It was a pattern I was very content with.

But even as I sat in the library every morning or sung on the street as Peter played the guitar for spare change, I felt uneasiness prickle the back of my neck.

But I never saw the master, nor did I see the demon that lived inside Peter again. Despite all odds, things were relatively routine.

"I got you something," Peter said as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and set the instrument down against the wall.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he pulled out what looked like a wadded up shirt from his backpack and handed it to me.

When I grabbed it I could feel the weight of something solid inside.

"Sorry, I'm bad at wrapping."

I rolled my eyes and peeled the fabric back to reveal a small black alarm clock. A bubble of laughter shook my shoulders as I looked at the device in my lap.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, its great,"I insisted, hopping the laughter didn't hurt his feelings, "Why did you get it for me?"

"You broke your other one on me."

"How did you even afford this?"

"I mean it's second hand, but it works." He almost looked a little hurt.

"I'm sorry, I love it I swear, but you're supposed to use money for food and important things like that."

"This is important, it's my fault it was broken so I wanted to make it up to you."

"You didn't have to do this."

"I know."

I was going to argue the point further, but it didn't seem worth it. So I just leaned over and gave him a hug.

"And to show you how thankful I am, I'm getting you some coffee," I said, setting the bundle to the side and getting to my feet.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know." I half mocked him but topped it off with a smile.

Walking down the street to the Java Lab, I got us both coffee and bagels. The employees had grown used to seeing me all the time and made light chitchat as my order was prepared. I probably would have been more friendly back if they ever treated me this way when Peter was with me.

Soon one of the employees set my stuff down in front of me, but before I could take it one of the bagels was snatched away.

The lady at the register turned back to the person who'd set everything on the counter and said, "This one's burnt make it again," and then turned back to me, "sorry about that."

"No, it's fine I'll take it."

"It's okay we'll just make a new one."

I grabbed the other stuff, "If I don't eat it, who else will?"

The woman examined me and my outstretched hand for a second before shrugging and handing the bagel over, "Suit yourself."

"Thanks!" I said and left a dollar in the tip jar to show that there were no hard feelings.

On my way back I made sure to take a bite out of the burnt one so Peter wouldn't reach for it.

As I was chewing on the big piece I felt someone bump into my shoulder. They didn't turn when I grunted in surprise, just kept barreling through the sparse crowd.

I could see Peter ahead, pawing through his backpack. The cup that he collected tips in sat by his feet.

The figure in front of me sped up, and as they got to Peter they swiftly bent down and scooped up the cup, taking off down the street with it.

Peter's head whipped up just as the cup was snatched. I was close enough at that point that I could see the change in his face.

"Peter," I warned loudly, "Peter, no!"

But it was too late. He jumped to his feet, eyes already black, and took off after them.