DIABLO
Abel found a place that made sense. Decent sized, comfortable, not flashy. A man working at a bowling alley could never explain a mansion, so the house sits tucked away in the backstreets, easy to overlook. From the outside it looks small, almost cramped.
Inside tells a different story. Several apartments have been knocked through, opening into a wide living space that wraps around a garden. That garden has become my refuge. Nights are often spent out there with a glass of Scotch, staring at the dark windows and pretending April is just inside. In those moments, she is taking a bath, watching television, reading about Ancient Rome. Closing my eyes makes it easy to believe.
Reality waits patiently. Opening my eyes ruins everything. Some nights, sleep comes out there instead. Pain
