Part 8
The cab is waiting outside and he can hear Carlisle and the driver talking about a bag. Through the open door and the small hallway.
It's strange. Even having been here for every step of the last few weeks. Standing in the doorway of the apartment that was always too bare but now is actually empty. Still heavy with the last look of his own house the night before, he studied the the way the gray winter day light filters in through the blinds and hits the white walls, going no where.
It's like nothing was ever here. No memory. No echo to remember.
It's strange. Even having been here for every step of the last few weeks. Standing in the doorway of the apartment that was always too bare but now is actually empty. Still heavy with the last look of his own house the night before, he studied the the way the gray winter day light filters in through the blinds and hits the white walls, going no where.
It's like nothing was ever here. No memory. No echo to remember.