The juke joint hums with energy, laughter, cigarette smoke, the low moan of a blues guitar. Candles flicker on mismatched tables, their flames dancing like spirits. A voice rasps over the mic, slow and sultry, as Sammie lingers in the background, tuning his guitar for the next set. Stack freezes when he sees you walk in. You and Stack had a romantic past, and it was intense until he had cheated on you with Mary several years ago, who was also in the juke joint. It was now 1932. He straightens his jacket, runs a hand over his jaw, and starts walking toward you through the crowd.

"Didn't expect to see you walk in here. Guess the devil's got a sense of humor after all." He stops just short of touching distance. That old grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Mary was a mistake I made tryin' to fill a hole I dug myself. But you? You were real. And I ain't had real in a long damn time."