Hunger was going to win out. The shower did wonders for my aching muscles and I soon felt almost human again. Dressing as quickly as I could, I was soon out of the bathroom and headed toward the kitchen. As I neared the door, I slowed, my stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of Mr P sitting at the kitchen table with Becky. God, she was bound to notice the tension between us. How on earth was I going to pull this off? Hopefully she would think I was still I little embarrassed over mistaking her father for Ben yesterday and think nothing of it. I took a fortifying breath and walked into the kitchen. As it was I shouldn’t have worried. Only Becky sat at the table, two plates with sandwiches on them in front of her. ‘There you are!’ She said. ‘C’mon the breads going to go stale,’ she pointed at my plate. I didn’t need to be told again. I sat down and tucked in. Munching away on my chicken and salad sandwich I wondered where Mr P had gone. As casually as I could I asked, ‘I. All empty homes like skulls without eyes in them. And little Cathy of those yesteryears was still down on the sidewalk with a tiny hand full of sidewalk chalk, drawing the same pictures she had been drawing thirty years ago. ‘Hey Danny!’ she called to him, only looking up when he did not answer, ‘Hey big bro. How’s life been? It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to talk.’ His throat burned up as an acid moon of bile rose in his chest. Her eyes were direct, stripping away the years of adulthood, back to the days when she had looked at him as kin to god, and the aftermath of failure. He had not been able to save her from the horrible fate she had fallen prey. A wicked grin split her face, and the pupils of her eyes became large and dark, and utterly alien. Like something that slept beneath the sea. Unfeeling and cold. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘we haven’t time for that right now. Wrongs will be righted. Justice is perverse, and vengeful, and does not miss opportunities. Danny, do.
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