He ran with the focused determination of the sprinter he’d been in college, pumping his arms and keeping his stride long. His feet pounded the cobblestone. Sweat dampened his body, despite the arctic wind blowing from the north. He wore only ratty gym shorts and an old tank top, but he barely felt the sting of the cold.It was the most alive he’d felt in entirely too long.By his side, Molly matched his pace. His daughter’s dog ran full throttle, like a retriever chasing her latest prize. Her ears were back, her eyes fevered. She missed her mistress, appreciated the exercise.Man and dog turned from the main boulevard onto a quiet street in Liam’s neighborhood. Waiting at a stop sign, a young mother with a minivan full of children lifted a hand in greeting.Liam couldn’t bring himself to wave back.The realization of how normal he and Molly appeared, man and dog out for an afternoon jog, tore through him. Illusion, he knew. One of the most seductive narcotics known to mankind. The belief that appearances equaled reality.Not even a man like Liam was immune.
