The numb places along his skin tingled now that the brace straps weren’t tied around them, but otherwise the deep, constant ache remained the same. He looked again at his watch, but it had stopped at the time of the crash; the hands under the shattered glass were frozen at 1:23 A.M. “You thinkin’ hard, there, Byron?” Eli said. “Just wondering what time it was. Whether it was close to morning yet. It’s gonna be a busy day, I imagine, what with the police and everything. Plus I got to call my wife and let her know I’m all right first thing, so that she don’t hear about it on the news.” “We’ll get you there.” “I reckon I need to get back as well,” Fiddlin’ John said. “My daughter’s likely to be worrying about me.” He frowned a little. “Hey, ain’t we talked about this before?” “We talked about a lot of stuff,” Eli said. “But no, we done had this exact same conversation … ain’t we?” The sin eater held up the jug. “Reckon you need some more of this to clear your head, don’t you?”
