Chapter 18: In Which Jack Remembers, Sort Of
Jack waited until he heard the sound of the front door closing before he allowed himself to hop from the bed and peer between the slats of the mini-blinds at his window. He watched as Beau loaded a couple of reusable grocery bags into the hatch of his tiny yellow car. Night had fallen, and Beau was little more than a shadow in the pale illumination of the overhead light down the street a ways.
I look back for just a second and see him through the thin veil of snow that’s begun falling at the top of the hill, watching my descent. Should I wave? No. I turn back, watching my step as I continue downward. I want things between us to move slowly. This one is special.
He wasn’t sure where that memory had come from. But there was something mesmerizin
