As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, “but if you are referring to any little coolness since our marriage let us never speak of it again. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey.
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