The Pile concert at the Middle East was packed. The floor felt sticky. Patrick had wandered off for another drink. Bodies jostled for space on the dance floor.
“¡Viva las computadoras!”
“What?!”
It was impossible to hear people’s words. I smiled and nodded.
Patrick was back. The man was reading the slogan on his retro yellow t-shirt.
“I lost my shoe!” he exclaimed.
Patrick reached down, removing one of his canvas docksiders.
“Here, have mine!”
“But–”
“Come on!”
He grabbed my hand, pulling me outside onto the icy sidewalk.
“You just gave away your shoe!”
Patrick shrugged.
“He needed it!”