Tom Moses

His house was still a wreck from his meeting with John, most of that mess had been cleaned up, but there was still the matter of the black scorches on the stairs left over from the Paramedics. Rubber gloves on his hands he had been at work cleaning the bedroom from top to bottom. For whatever reason, the act of cleaning usually gave him time enough to think and sort things out; it was almost a similar exercise to his morning runs and workouts, except there was more to think about when he was not as active.

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It was not the sort of way he wished to spend a Saturday afternoon, but it had to be done. Emily was stable but the damage to her body was severe this time, the chemically induced coma was something the doctors needed to help her recover but it was Doctor Evans that put his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “It was bad this time, you know.”

“She should be dead.”

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He laid the lint brush on the table to his left as he tied a single winzer knot in his tie. Jackson hated the double, he could never make it work right and for expedience he opted to stop trying. The lint brush ran over his shoulders and he stared in the mirror to make sure his appearance was as professional as he liked to keep. Satisfied after a few more strokes he made his way downstairs and once again hoped to smell a breakfast that was never in the air anymore.

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It is a starless night, not unlike many winter nights in this city. The clouds pass over the sky, keeping even the moon hidden from sight. Only the dirty yellow that emanates from the rusting posts that curve over the sidewalks provide any light of use.

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