44
Nearly an hour passed before Connell crossed the threshold of Bishop’s house. He entered through the kitchen. Yogi was sitting at the wooden kitchen table, a mug of tea in front of him. He was staring sightlessly at the side of the refrigerator, his eyes disturbingly blank.
“Hey, man,” Connell said quietly.
Yogi looked up at him. “Oh. Hey.” He looked around and seemed startled to see the tea in front of him. Mechanically, he picked it up and took a sip. “It’s cold.”
“Maybe you should make yourself another one,” Connell said. His friend’s disconnected expression was starting to unnerve him.
“I didn’t make it.”
Connell reached out and took the mug. He popped it into the microwave for a minute before putting it back in front of him. Unsure what to do, he excused himself and went to f
