“You’re sure that’s it?” Clay asked, looking at the boxes and a few pieces of furniture in the back of the truck Quint had rented.
It was six months after what they now referred to as The Element Case. Since then, they had been trading off, spending their free time at either Quint’s house or the loft, depending on Clay’s painting schedule.
Then, a few days ago, Quint had come into the loft, marched over to where Clay was working on his latest painting, kissed him, and said, “I’m tired of commuting.”
After returning the kiss, Clay c****d an eyebrow in question.
“Sometimes we’re here, sometimes we’re there. I think we should combine households.”
“It’s about time you said so,” Clay replied. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d suggest it.”
“Me? What about you?” Quint countered.
“You o
