“I’m back.” The door to the cd shop slammed shut like destiny entered the room.

Heavy, black three-quarter boots – one silver and two black buckles.

Jeans that looked like death had worn them for a night, with rips so torn they nearly cut the air.

A belt adorned by gargoyles adorned by skulls and pierced by arrows.

A Leather jacket studded with the souls of yesterday’s rock, weathered by the promise of tomorrow’s hangover.

And the man with the motley jet black hair whose slung guitar knew chords to freedom.

“Oh we’re back alright.” My tie was already off before I spoke.