Chapter 9
The day wasn’t about clinging to tangible valuables, though. It was about seeking out the intangible ones—the thrills, the emotions, and the memories—and trying to make sense of the dreams that had haunted him through the night. Why now? To what end?
Gerry stared at the box, sighed heavily, and then, as if directing the question to the closet, “You really want to do this, Ger?”
The box did not reply. Instead, his mind offered up a beautiful face and a not-altogether-endearing smirk. That image flopped into one of Gerry’s chairs, and waved a long-fingered hand in the air at the dust that rose. The light of the room highlighted a gold taffeta jacket and the dark red velvet pants matched the color of Gerry’s carpeting perfectly. The imagined dust dissipated, the figment’s expression shifted into a mask of innocent patience, and it spoke. “Well, of course you’re going to do it, Fawn. You never could stay away.”