"Hey, Buster," she said, emerging from a doorway in the alley. I hadn't seen her there when I staggered by. She stepped into the weak vector of light from the street lamp overhead that was filling with little slivers of rain. She was wearing a long dark coat and her hands were deep in the pockets. I recognized her. I'd never met her though she'd taught me everything that I know about music and life through her records. My heart felt like it was being squeezed, I stammered out some gibberish reply. She laughed a little and looked at me like she could see right thru the roiling cloak of flaws that I hugged so close to me like it was protection and she said, "Don't worry about it. You're alright." I could feel the rain on my face now. She was gone. I don't know if she was ever there.