[Doc's going about his repair business as usual. He's toting a toolbox, and as he hears a familiar tune with an unexpectedly familiar vocal accompaniment. He knows that voice too well, and his heart catches in his throat.
Marty.
Doc finds himself slowing and joining the crowd, maybe two rows back---but he's tall enough to see over most heads. Oddly enough...anyone near the mechanic on the street might hear the mechanic's toolbox suspiciously jingling to the beat.
Should he approach afterward? Should he walk away? He could at least leave a tip, though he's likely hurting for money far more than Marty.
Despite the pain of separation, of knowing just what Marty thinks of him now, he smiles. His friend always did have a gift.]
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Marty.
Doc finds himself slowing and joining the crowd, maybe two rows back---but he's tall enough to see over most heads. Oddly enough...anyone near the mechanic on the street might hear the mechanic's toolbox suspiciously jingling to the beat.
Should he approach afterward? Should he walk away? He could at least leave a tip, though he's likely hurting for money far more than Marty.
Despite the pain of separation, of knowing just what Marty thinks of him now, he smiles. His friend always did have a gift.]