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

Rather than get caught out on the sidewalk for a more public confrontation, John scanned the street for somewhere to go and sit to pull himself together. In the old days, he would’ve headed straight to Dawson’s, the diner everybody hung out at, but that place was long gone. In its stead was something called Martino’s, a pizza joint if the neon pizza slice in the front window was any indication. For lack of a better option, it would have to do.


The restaurant was an order at the counter kind of place, devoid of anyone but a dark-haired man in the kitchen, visible through the window. When the bell rang over the door, he craned his neck to watch John enter, then came out to take his order. John wasn’t hungry, but he had to buy something to have the privilege of hiding in here, so he paid for a single slice of pepperoni and a bottled water.


The man never made a noise about recognizing him.


Chapter 15