Chapter 2Oliver’s loneliness was like a shadow that never stopped trailing him. Four months had passed. Snow had melted, giving way to gray skies and thunderstorms, which suited Oliver fine. But now spring was at the door, impatient, already making its colorful entrance.
Outside Oliver’s second-story window stood a redbud tree, its impressionist buds of lavender mocking him. The forsythia bush did the same; Oliver couldn’t bear the vibrant yellow when he made a rare emergence from his front door.
So Oliver tried to stay inside. It wasn’t that hard to do. He had no appetite. When he absolutely had to eat, he could usually find crackers in the pantry or a can of soup. He had long ago disconnected the phone. Even the mail no longer got to him…when he remembered to remove it from his mailbox
