Not an hour had passed since he’d run from the bar with his tail firmly between his legs. Pain threatened to drag him to his knees but he kept walking. The bruise on his face was drawing attention he didn’t want. Everything was pleasantly blurry without his glasses, so he really didn’t notice the looks so much. “Are you all right, sir?” The flight attendant who checked his ticket seemed genuinely concerned. “I’m fine.” He didn’t feel like trying to explain when he had no idea how to process what had just happened. “Lost my glasses and walked into an overhang.” She seemed to take his answer in stride and directed him to his seat. He’d bought first class out of desperation because the plane was full. Once seated, he asked for something cold to drink mostly to press against his face, and for something to kill the headache building behind his eyes. At five o’clock he left the Big Easy behind. His heart ached with so much pain he couldn’t swallow. Eight hours later, the taxi pulled into the drive of the neat house he’d grown up in.
