Chapter 30

There was more to his leaving than his needing to get away from Andre and what had happened between them. He had been in the city for the past ten years. Soon, people would begin to notice that he wasn’t aging.

“Now’s as good a time as any to find a new home, somewhere far from here,” he said under his breath. “When I do, I can collect the rest of my stuff, what I want to keep, that is.”

He’d accumulated a lot of things since he’d bought the house, but most of them were only that—things. Furniture, kitchenware, the usual detritus a homeowner amasses. Only his clothes and books meant anything to him—and his jeep. What a lonely life I live. No pictures, no mementos from friends. Nothing that says I’m more than a transient moving from place to place before anyone begins asking questions I can’t answer.