A click. The tape ran silent for three seconds. Then, the sound of a glass being set down heavily on a wooden table. A long, slow exhale.

It was a direct, almost ugly swipe at his own mythology. The “Slowhand” persona. The “legend.” The song was a suicide note written to his own ego.

She rewound the tape, popped it out of the player, and placed it back in its box. She marked the folder: Do Not Digitize. Archival Only.

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