The Butcher's Boy
“It had been years since he'd allowed himself the luxury of even momentary uncertainty about where he'd been when he'd closed his eyes. Had he heard something? No, it was just his instinct telling him it was time. The shadows in the room had deepened and melted together into darkness. He sat up and strained to see the dial of his watch. It was six thirty ; the old man had been gone for over five hours.
He stood up and listened to the breathing of the empty house: the faint hum of the furnace in ...the cellar, the soft substantial sound of the clapboards standing up to the bitter wind. It brought back the feel of the house in Pennsylvania when he was a child, not so far from here, but too many years ago.
It was as though he'd walked out, and when he looked back that world had been gone for so long that there wasn't anyone else left who even remembered it. The house was probably still standing, like this one was, but now someone else lived there.
"It's a safe house," Eddie had said. "Nobody talks about it because they might have to use it someday.MoreLess
He stood up and listened to the breathing of the empty house: the faint hum of the furnace in ...the cellar, the soft substantial sound of the clapboards standing up to the bitter wind. It brought back the feel of the house in Pennsylvania when he was a child, not so far from here, but too many years ago.
It was as though he'd walked out, and when he looked back that world had been gone for so long that there wasn't anyone else left who even remembered it. The house was probably still standing, like this one was, but now someone else lived there.
"It's a safe house," Eddie had said. "Nobody talks about it because they might have to use it someday.MoreLess
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