Chapter 88
Going by touch alone, Stacy pushed his way through the swinging doors into the woodshop. There he felt a little better turning on the light because it couldn’t be seen from the street, but the overhead halogens were so fucking bright after his nightly stroll that he practically knocked the small banker’s lamp off Darian’s desk trying to turn it on. Once he managed to get it, Stacy turned off the overheads with relief.
The lamp cast a soft golden glow that spilled into a small circle immediately around the desk. The wooden chair was illuminated, a few rolled up sketches on the floor, the strings of an apron that hung closest to the desk, but beyond that, the rest of the room stayed draped in shadow.
Suddenly that chair looked wonderful.