Even with only the bare bones, there was a lot to be done. He read it once, and then again. Will wrote like he spoke, even in this, a business document. Calvin could hear his voice in the words, low and even, moving through the house as Will himself had moved through it, and Calvin just behind him, watching as he walked. Taking in, again and again, the new height, the breadth of his shoulders, the arc of his neck and the terribly familiar color of his hair. Eventually Calvin went outside to the garage, got his bicycle out and pumped down the road until his lungs stung. His shoulders, aching from sitting all day in ergonomically incorrect chairs, either loosened or numbed completely from the ride. Even in the rapidly cooling air, the sweat ran down his nape by the time he wheeled back up the drive, tires crunching over gravel. It must have been numbness, though, because his shoulders began to hurt almost immediately once his bike was locked away, a new, deep throb that demanded a heating pad.
