He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and spat a single swear word. At the same time, he came to a realization.
Jonathan could have easily told him all of that stuff himself. He left a damned note.
Maybe Jonah was wrong with his earlier thoughts. Maybe it wasn't so strange that the city had become the refuge.
Jonah hit the road the next morning a few minutes past eight. He'd already had words planned for Mr. Steverson, knowing that he'd never ask too many questions, but it turned out someone beat him to it.
“Why are you callin' me, son?” Mr. Steverson had genuine puzzlement in his voice when Jonah called him. “Your optometrist called me and told me about your appointments.”
“Say wh—I mean, he did?” asked Jonah, eyebrows high.
“Yeah!” said Mr. Steverson. “You're good over here, boy.
