Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

“This way,” he mouthed, pointing at the other door.


John frowned. Wasn’t the whole point of sneaking in to watch the movie? What did Frank have in mind? But John dropped his hand and nodded.


Frank’s way let them into a storage room, packed from floor to ceiling with cleaning supplies and boxes. They had to creep single-file down the middle to get through to the door on the other side, each footfall booming inside John’s skull. The longer they wandered around, the better their odds at getting caught. He was dying to beg Frank to forget the whole idea and turn around, but then that would mean even more risky noise, so he held his tongue, even when Frank stopped and pressed his ear to the exit.


Chapter 5