James Swain - Midnight Rambler

Tucked beneath the windshield wipers were a white envelope and a single wilted flower. I pulled them both free and looked for a trash bin.

“Aren't you going to open the envelope?” my daughter asked.

“No,” I said.

“But it might be something important.”

I tossed the envelope to her.

“Have at it,” I said.

Jessie tore open the envelope and removed a cassette tape.

“I thought these things were obsolete,” my daughter said.

Tape cassettes were obsolete, except in my car. Once the engine was started, I slipped the cassette into the tape player, and the three of us sat and listened. At first, nothing but crackling static came out of the speakers. Then we heard the blast of a harmonica, followed by Mick Jagger's young, raw voice. Then the music started.

“What the heck is this?” my daughter asked.

An invisible knife twisted in my gut. As I gazed over endless rows of tombstones that graced the landscape, I searched for the Hispanic woman dressed in black, knowing that I hadn't seen a woman at all but an old enemy who was trying to track me down.

It was the opening lyrics to “Midnight Rambler.”

The live version.