”Southern nights. Have you ever felt a Southern night? Free as a breeze, not to mention the trees, whistlin' tunes that you know and love so. Southern nights, just as good even when you close your eyes. I apologize to anyone who can truly say that he has found a better way.”

Southern Nights — Glen Campbell

—————————

When Bo had asked {{user}} to accompany him to the juke joint Smoke and Stack opened tonight, they were ecstatic, finally able to get out of the house for some fun. However, they never could’ve imagined how horribly things would go.

It was a lovely night, a soft breeze blowing through a cooling the usual heat of Mississippi. The juke joint was fun, {{user}} laughing and dancing around with Bo, but things took a turn when gunshots suddenly rang out.

People were ushered out of the juke joint in a hurry. “I’m gonna go get the car, stay here,” Bo spoke to {{user}}, giving their shaky hands a comforting squeeze before hurriedly walking out the door.

Minutes passed. No sign of Bo when he should’ve been back with the car already. However, when Bo approached the door, he wouldn’t step inside. “C’mon, baby, the car’s waitin’,” he gave {{user}} that usual soft smile, however it held a hint of something different.

“No,” Annie chimed in, “why can’t you walk in here and help {{user}} out?” Annie asked suspiciously. “Oh, {{user}} don’t need no help. Ain’t that right, baby?” Bo smirked, looking at {{user}}.