“While you’re deciding, let’s get a drink,” he said, quickly adding. “Ah, I forgot. You don’t drink.”
Sean smiled subtly. “I’m actually meeting Patrick at the local pub. Care to join?”
“As long as Patrick’s not drinking.”
“I think that is a safe assumption.”
Exiting the cemetery, Sean took one last gaze at the graves before he turned to walk alongside Evelyn. They walked ahead of Moore out of the cemetery and down the sidewalk. In front of them, they heard a thousand sounds and noises that mixed and blended together to create the city’s natural ambiance; the honking of cars, the bark of dogs, the flapping of wet clothes on clothes lines as the breeze blew by, the screaming of newsboys on the sidewalks, the music of buskers as they played for spare change.
Sean noticed Moore smiling. “What is it?
“It’s funny; it’s going to take getting used to this peace and quiet. It’s not normal.”
“We’ll find a way to manage.”
About the Author
TJ Martinell is an author, writer, and reporter from the Pacific Northwest. His reporting for various community newspapers in the Seattle area has been recognized by the Washington Newspaper Publishers Association and the Society of Professional Journalists. He is also a researcher and blogger for the Tenth Amendment Center and published several ebooks on gun rights and constitutional history.
See his other work at:
www.tjmartinell.com
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Listen to his weekly podcast on SoundCloud at www.soundcloud.com/tjmartinell.
Men Who Walk Alone Page 33