Chapter 17
Henry walked east on Morse, thinking the newly washed air and the bright sunshine warming his face might make him feel better, lift his spirits a bit. After all, they had nowhere to go but up. But all he felt was alone.
He didn’t know where he was going, not in a literal sense, not in a figurative one. A couple of months ago, he had been a high school kid from a well-to-do family with the promise of an affluent path laid before him, if only he would follow in the family footsteps. Everyone would have been happier if he had only done so! But no, he had to pursue his dream of cooking for a living. Cooking! His father was right—it was a stupid dream. Look at him now—nothing more than minimum-wage kitchen help, the kind of person his dad employed to pass a tray around or park cars
