THE ENTIRE RIDE to the cemetery, I'm starting to question my decision to go in earnest. I'm not exactly sure why I’m sticking my nose where I know it doesn’t belong. I don’t know why I'm rushing to the cemetery to confirm for myself, with my own eyes, if what Louis said on the phone is true.
It doesn't concern me.
It doesn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
But even though I'm telling myself this and even though I know minding my own business will be more beneficial for me in the end, I'm already here, standing in front of the cemetery. The air is hot. Even though Sinclair’s shirt is short-sleeved on him, the sleeves are a lot longer on me. I'm still glad I wore this instead of the long-sleeved one that had become my favorite of his shirts. It’s soft and comfortable but it would
