Pulled up to the garage, just vibing in the Phantom, letting the engine purr. Then Floyd rolls up in his Corvette. Windows down, he leans out—"What you on?"
I keep it cool. "Just chilling." Ain’t no need to press him yet. This was before everything went sideways, before the eight bricks disappeared, before the hunt began.
Crazy how a simple conversation can turn into a whole saga.
