This is the continuation of a short story that itself is a continuation and expansion of a song I wrote. It was four in the morning. Josie Swenson found herself fixated with a full moon casting an eerie glow through the open window in a rundown home near campus. The front faced the soccer stadium …
Nightrider's Lament
"Why do they [write] for their money? Why do they [work] for short pay? They ain't getting nowhere and they're losing their share. They must have gone crazy back there." — Michael Burton (paraphrased)
