I guess I should keep this phone with me."Sarah said, "Probably, but if it doesn't have voicemail, I'll just keep trying. No reason to be a slave to the thing. Just make sure you check in with me every day for a while. I want to hear from you to know you're all right." Thanks, Sarah, I have a line on a job, so I might be able to pay you." I like the way you think, Mark, but you can't afford me. Besides, I'm getting a kick out of working your case against a conniving female. Talk to me tomorrow afternoon. See ya."I was sitting there thinking whether I had left any trace of where I had gone. I thought of the newspaper and worried whether I had put it away and walked over to the Bronco and saw the classified section folded up on the passenger seat. I was fine. My Yahoo profile didn't have an address. I should just go get a P.O. Box. I might do that.After a shower and decently dressed again, I drove over to the golf cart plant. I went to the service desk and asked, "Are you folks looking. It was always grey. Not particularly nice, not particularly foul, just... grey. He couldn't remember when it wasn't grey. Not just the weather, that just reflected his mood, but everything. Food tasted bland, people bored him these days, nothing seemed to grip him the same way it used to.He sighed, turning away from the window, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror mounted on the wall. He still looked the same, which almost surprised him, it felt as though he should be marked somehow. The well-muscled body that looked like it belonged to a man ten years his junior, black hair cropped to an inch in length, emphasising his blue eyes. It was there, if anywhere, that there was a difference. His eyes had always been his favourite feature, he'd been told that they were the colour of the summer sky, but now they looked like the blue of deep arctic ice, cold and uncaring. His eyes couldn't help but glance down his reflection, past the smooth chest, the still-hard abdominals, to his.
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