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Chapter 8

Brad felt a flash of panic. “But I think it was brave of you, and very decent, to come up here and tell me all this.”

Douglas nodded, valiantly fighting back tears.

Brad wracked his brains for something to say. Words of comfort. Anything. “It must have been hard carrying all that around with you.”

Douglas swallowed another mouthful of beer. “Not really. Eventually it becomes a part of who you are. People reckon it eats away at you. Didn’t eat away at me.”

“But it separated you from everyone else.”

“I was never very social. I’ve got this house. I work out every day. I go for walks. I’ve got my job.”

“What is it that you do?” asked Brad, latching onto the opportunity to change the subject. “You work from home?”

“Writer. Reviews, mainly. DVDs and music. I have regular gigs from all around the world and make just as much as I would in a nine-to-five job. Plus the rent I get from you.” He swallowed another mouthful of beer. “And you?”