“I walked into the club on 59th. Back then it was called, B Vibes. No one knew what the ‘B’ stood for, but I did.” The young man paused in his retelling of times gone by to take a sip of bourbon. I looked at how his hand shook as he picked up the glass; how his lips quivered in awaiting the cool drink. He was very young. Younger than myself infact. I knew he was eighteen, and the incident he was talking about transpired six months ago.
We were in a coffee shop, only metres from the newly-named Plaza niteclub. The young man, Winston, with moist mouth continued speaking, “It stood for black.” …Black black black…as a large crow flew past them and landed on the counter at the back of the cafe. It stared me in the eyes, calling out my name, “Black black black…” Over and over again that I covered my ears with my hands and ran out of the cafe screaming Death.