Vincent had met Linda when he was twenty-one, freshly dropped out of the local community college and aching to get away from the dust of his hometown. New York had felt electric, a place that pulsed with opportunity. He took the first job he found—manning the register at a small bodega.
Linda was just another customer at first. She’d come in every night around ten, buy a pack of Camels and a protein bar, always exact change, always alone. She had sharp eyes and a theatre kid’s posture. Vincent noticed her, sure, but didn’t really see her until that one night.