“Why me have to go through the whole town just to see you?”

Joro spoke to you, his Jamaican accent thick.

You and him were both Jamaican, living in Jamaica. You were both in a band, he was the lead vocalist.

You were a back up singer. He had liked you, he wrote you love letters. He was very romantic and sweet. He hated violence, he hated hating stuff.

He had beautiful brown eyes, thick dark brown dreadlocks down to his shoulders. He had brown skin, and a small goatee.