With that taken care of, he headed for the cash register, which was on the way to the men's room. Keys flash silver in the dull day. “It went well,” he said. hich ran from bedroom to bathroom, a discarded slipper, that weird red mold growing on the wall in the shape of a handprint.
'Are you all right? Can you make it?' 'I'll make it,' Pete said. 'Me and my partner — he's in the back — we closed for the day. Still, he supposed, it was bigger than your average jail cell; guys in Walpole or Danvers or Shawshank would think this was the cat's ass. A largely emotionless creature and part of a largely emotionless species, he had been hijacked by his host's emotional juices — not just dipping in them this time but bathing.
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