Vinnie loaned me his jacket one night when we were sitting in his basement bedroom listening to the Fugees and catching up. He'd been smoking in the stairwell leading into his room. Because the door had been open, it was cold. Vinnie let me pick out a jacket. I chose the red and blue plaid. It was one of his purchases from Goodwill. "That was only a dollar seventy-five," he told me smiling.
The jacket smelled like him, like Marlboros and sweat and Calvin Klein cologne. It had a ...