Benjamin allowed his person to be intruded upon by the aromatic leather contours of the Mulberry Hnoss. The leather chaise longue and its multiple degrees of comfort provided ample support for his knackered, Herculean frame.
Maxwell stared at the gentleman’s hands.
Skin, assaulted by the sun.
The bruised blood vessels.
The epidermal layer, burned by the wind.
Where had they been?
“So, you married Claire.”
Maxwell returned to 88 Mercer Street.
“Last year. Small ceremony in Santorini.”
Benjamin, comfortably reclined, thought momentarily.
“Good. Good for you.”
Implode. Part VII – DK