After setting down his purchases on the kitchen counter, he walked back to the main living area and pulled the blinds up. He looked down at 10thAvenue, which a bit farther south morphed into Broadway, the main drag through the gay ghetto of Capitol Hill. He wondered if he would ever feel a sense of home again. It didn’t help that, while he was making his way there, the cloud cover had become complete, blocking out the sun and shrouding the day in somber tones of gray. A light drizzle, more of a mist, had begun to fall.
Everything outside looked dirty and drab. If Ollie had taken a photograph, it would have shown up in black and white.
Ollie wondered why he wasn’t brought to his knees on the floor with grief and why he wasn’t crying. Wouldn’t these be normal reactions to one’s world falling apart? Why wasn’t he on the phone with his mom in Chicago, pouring out his almost laughable tale of woe?