Whenever I smell asphalt, I think of Maureen.
That's the last sensation I had before I blacked out:
the thick smell of asphalt.
And the first thing I saw when I woke up was her face.
She said she'd fix my bike.
Free. No strings attached.
I should have known then that things are never that simple.
Yeah, when I think of Maureen, I think of two things:
asphalt...
...and trouble.