He had a beer in his hand, the house behind him was silent and empty, and he found it hard to believe that just two days ago he’d been fleeing the Sporelli on Phandra. He drained his beer and moved through the house. Despite its familiarity, it felt like a stage-set, his possessions taking on an unreal quality in light of recent experiences. On the coffee table in the lounge he came across a holo-cube of Maria and himself, taken on holiday shortly after they’d met: it showed a younger version of himself, and a beautiful, raven-haired woman in her early twenties. He touched the surface, and the younger version of himself laughed at something Maria had said, back then, and smiled out at Ellis. Maria had pulled him to her and planted a big wet kiss on his lips, telling him how much she loved him. He touched the cube again, stopping it. The image froze, showing them locked in intimacy. Sickened, he touched it again, allowing it to play on, and only when the scene panned away from them and across the sea did he freeze the image.
