Chapter 17: AshAdam sat at the kitchen table and looked at the smeared ink on DJ’s fingers. It was a warm autumn day, a week after the shooting at the docks. The sun shone brightly through the window. The trees with their golden leaves painted curious shadows on the table. DJ’s tears were soaking the paper of the notepad. Adam couldn’t help him.
Twenty minutes ago, DJ’s nose had been buried in yet another book. He was doing research for an essay on dead languages and their meaning for the future. A rogue ray of light toyed with his hair and fell down the shoulder onto the back of his hand where it softly caressed his fingers. Every now and then the hand would slip out of reach of the sunshine, when DJ had finished writing yet another line in his notebook and was readjusting himself. But t
