Paul locked the door and looked up between the buildings at the sky. Another blue-sky day, a sonic boom of blue over the Eastern Aegean. Good. He started down the alley but paused at the window, looking at his mussed bed in the mirror that stood near the wardrobe across the room. He liked mirrors; he always had. He liked what he saw when he looked there. The handsomest man. He was dressed for the gym, and he walked easily over the cobbled alleys his feet had now memorized. At the Kalí Stráta he turned right, down. The gym had grown on him. He was a regular, and his body had begun to respond. It felt different, lighter and more alive. He could feel the difference in every step. Today, he thought whimsically, he’d tell Anne he was ready to pose for the after photo. After the gym, after Kat, after Alex. He was even with Michael before he saw him. Michael stepped out of the doorway of an abandoned courtyard, the trashy remains of a walled garden that had once separated a great mansion from the bustle of the Kalí Stráta.
