Chapter 13
Henry couldn’t stay away from home for another night. His eyes burned. His joints ached. His back felt like what he would imagine the back of an eighty-year-old man must feel like. On his worst day. It almost hurt to simply stand and put weight on his feet. The weariness hung heavy, dragging him down so low it was difficult to even form a coherent thought.
He had said good night to Vito as he left and gotten only a grunt in return. Henry would like to have just said to hell with the guy, but he couldn’t. His aloofness, his brooding manner, his secrets only served to attract Henry more instead of repelling him. Was this what a moth drawn to a flame felt like?
Ah, he didn’t have the energy to ponder these things anymore! He didn’t want Vito. He didn’t want s*x. He didn’t want f
