712
1981
An electric current circled through Jake as he watched her close her eyes, turn forward and continue down the path alongside the Savannah. This time, he followed.
She never turned around, but Jake was certain she knew. She veered right, walked over the levee down toward Pinched Gut and glided up four steps to an untended gingerbread porch on Telfair Street. When she turned toward Jake, her thigh-length hair billowed around her.
“Why you come this time?” she asked Jake. “Not others.”
“What? I don’t know. Maybe cause you’re wearing different perfume today,” Jake said.
“No. Today, I not wear.”