#Chapter30
After a final goodbye and parting ways, any sense of purpose he had depleted. He stood in the street, in the same damn spot, for a good five minutes after the other man had left, their cars parked on opposing ends of the town square. He stood, shoulders hunched to the cold and half convinced that his heart was no longer beating, and it took a few odd looks and a pedestrian stopping to check that he was alright to spur him forward.
The streets seemed to blur. He walked without seeing. Moved without thinking. And maybe his body was wise to that because somehow, don't ask him how, he ended up next to his car. The silver paint job had once been his pride and joy. She'd been an eighteenth birthday present from his mom, who adored him more than life itself. It was mutual. He loved his mom so, so much, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to answer her texts or calls either.
