. . .

Tom’d almost —

He is weak, suddenly. He is a child, suddenly. He is pale and shivering like a rabbit caught by a serpent’s eyes.

His inspiration abandons him.

His cockiness abandons him. His smile starts twitching at one edge.

That look devolves him; before those eyes he is just a desperate, frightened boy who hasn’t even got his hat on.

He licks his lips. “Mr. —” he starts. He swallows. He is going to say “Mr. Loggins?”

Mr. Loggins lunges.

<< . . .

. . . >>