The coins in Crow’s pocket jangled as he walked down the street. He liked to imagine the sound was actually being made by the spurs he wore on his boots.
“You know how some people,” Sparrow asked, leading him across the street, “just pick up and leave? Like they just go somewhere else and you never see them again? Or you do, but like five years later and they’re completely different?”
“Yeah. Do you have a cigarette?”
She stopped in the middle of the road to give him one. A car honked and swerved around them.
“Could you do that?”