Cornwell’s office in the village of Wickford, he insisted on coming in with me after finding a spot to park. We approached the door and I tried to push it open but it was locked. Glancing over at the window, I noticed that the shades were still closed. I guessed it was still early. “Want to go get breakfast and come back?” Seven suggested. I nodded. We walked down the street and around the corner to a café. Sitting down at one of the tables, we ordered coffee and pancakes. While we ate, he pressed me about my decision. “I still think you should stay a month, like your father wanted.” I sipped my coffee and peered up at him from behind the mug. “I can’t. I have to get back to—” “What exactly is in Manhattan?” he questioned, shifting on the chair. “Reality.” “And what do you call this, Julian?” “I don’t know…a place where I don’t belong. Look,” My level of frustration rose, “They don’t want me here. I have to turn it over. If not, I’m going to just sell it.”
