“You’re going to rock forever,” she said, laughingly.

He grunted, the effects of the drug cocktail they devoured earlier wearing off slowly. His eyes remained closed. What did she know about forever? Were groupies clairvoyant? He asked her this.

“I can’t see beyond ‘83, silly,” she answered, her voice saturated with that persistant laugh. “But I just know.”

He liked the way she talked. Moreover, he liked the things she said.

She ran a red-painted fingernail over his defined abdomen. “You’re going to rock forever,” she repeated. The laughter in her voice permeated the discombobulated hotel room and resounded in his head as he slowly lost consciousness.