Maybe Clay got suckered by the tits. Wouldn’t be hard… The violent sun streamed through the broken blinds on his bedroom window (broken by Clay—...e was sure of it) creating slanting bars of dark and white, like a piano, on his empty end table. You could see where Beth’s jewelry box once sat by the hexagonal space that wasn’t covered with a sheen of dust. They’d left most of their belongings behind before heading east, and besides breaking the blinds and more than a few of their drinking glasses,. I kept a semi-worried eye on my temperature gauge as the elevation increased. The old pick-up hadn't been on a trip such as this in a few years, since the last time I'd had time to go skiing. But it seemed to be holding steady as the landscape changed over to pine trees and patches of snow on the ground. The CD player I'd installed last year (one of the few luxuries I'd allowed myself) was pumping out track four of Rush's Moving Pictures, a song called "Limelight." I was singing along. More

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