Keith thoroughly despised the way the past had the tendency to surreptitiously catch up with him, creeping under his skin like a malicious cloak, something which stuck to him like a leech unable to shake.
After he’d left the Mahoney mansion at wee hours, he’d found it impossible to sleep, and had therefore gone out for a run at early morning hours to escape the haunting recollections. He’d jogged through the Washington Square Park six times, until he felt his feet smart with pain in his shoes, and he was hyperventilating like a dog.
It felt like he was trying to escape something from inside, the action as impossible as attempting to deprive himself of oxygen. Memories flooded him, and he found himself thrust back in times, three years ago when a theft had been unrav
