"You're keeping your door locked these days?" he asked and he didn't wait for an invitation, but just walked into my apartment."What are you doing her...?" I asked him. "Where's Thomas?" Home, getting ready for dinner with the family," Perry smiled at me. "You're invited, by the way. I volunteered to pick you up."I frowned and bit my bottom lip, crossing my arms over my t-shirt as I looked at him. Jesus, the man looked good. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Perry's black hair was neatly. Nothing different, nothing changed.The gate was still swinging in a lazy arc, faintly creaking, the noise being carried on the breeze that always came up the valley. The same breeze as always, that brought the tang of salt from the briny channel, a mile on the other side of the cottage and at the bottom of a step cliff.Clothing flapped on the dryer that slowly spun, looking like an old fashion moving picture show, flashing images of gradual motion, created from overlaid drawings, viewed through. More

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