14
Peter
The movers aren’t due until noon, so after I drop Sara off at work on Friday, I go for a long run with a weighted backpack to imitate the training I used to do with my guys. I need the hard exercise to work off some of the restlessness I’ve been feeling—and to take my mind off how much I miss my workaholic wife.
Ending my run in a quiet, nearly empty park, I strip off my sweat-soaked T-shirt and start on a set of calisthenics, using the eighty-pound backpack to add difficulty to basic one-arm push-ups and pull-ups on a nearby tree.
I’m almost finished when I see a teenage boy running toward me, his T-shirt flapping around his skinny body. For one heart-stopping moment, he looks exactly like my friend Andrey, the one who gave me all of my tattoos at Camp Larko.
The illusion di
