Pouring a second glass was probably not wise, but I did. As the first began to take hold, I enjoyed the familiar loosening, the second adding to the sensation. I watched as Reece undid his pants, got out his dick, and lay stroking it. I thought of Glenn as I rose and started toward the pergola, Glenn who’d run away from essentially nothing, Glenn who had himself locked inside a past to which I wasn’t privy. He could be far away by now, maybe headed back to Seattle, who knew? Or was he at some landfill, tearing the album to bits, scattering the last of his past?