12
A light drizzle fell on the suburbs of Winnipeg, rain pattering on the slanted roof of an old house with yellow aluminum siding. Two windows looked out on the damp front lawn like a pair of eyes.
Jack stood on the sidewalk in jeans and a black windbreaker, his hair slick with rainfall. What am I doing here? he wondered. Nothing good will come out of this little visit.
He started up the driveway.
On the porch, he found a big green door with moisture on the window that looked in on the front hall. Too bad his Nassai could not see through solid objects; it was far too dark inside for him to make out anything.
Jack covered his face with one hand, groaning into his palm. “You shouldn't have come,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose. “You always say 'this time will be different,' and i
