Same Old Song and Dance

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

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Our Kevin clapped me on the shoulder as I went one way and he went the other. I came around the back of the stage to the stairs that led up to the backstage kitchenette, and stopped short.

Ziggy was sitting on the steps, his hands hanging between his knees and his lower lip hidden in his teeth. He blinked heavily-lined eyes at me and stared. I stared back. Bart and Chris, who had been behind me at some point, were as disappeared as mafia informers.

“Hey,” he finally said.

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