Billy was working on his laptop at my kitchen table. Valentine was perched precariously on the bookshelf occasionally sending harsh looks at Billy. I scooped him up and held him close to my chest sitting on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, I took a quick shower while you were gone,” Billy said apologetically. Mind was not exactly the word I would use for it. He was sitting at my kitchen table wearing the same faded jeans and a grey t-shirt even tighter than the last. Normally I would wonder why he couldn’t buy clothes that fit, but the tight shirt fashion statement was working for him. I dragged my mind out of the gutter to ask him how his research was going. Now that I had agreed to go with him, I found myself with several dozen questions. I was more anxious than I had ever been for answers. I put Valentine on the floor. Billy seemed surprised when I sat next to him at the table. He closed the lid of his laptop and turned toward me, as to give me his full attention. His eyes were peaceful but they still didn’t calm the gnawing in my stomach.
