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lowered his angular body into one of Kristen's antique rocking chairs. He placed his hands on his knees and momentarily closed his eyes. "I am very tired," he whispered. |
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Charlie continued to appraise the man. His movements were incredibly stiff and mechanical. It was almost as if he had been constructed with dissimilar parts. In the final analysis, Charlie decided he looked like a man on the threshold of the longest journey of all. |
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Now it was Charlie's turn. He followed him into the room and settled his weight on the arm of the long sofa. "Look," he complained, "I haven't got all day. If your lady friend sent you all the way down here to give me an accounting, get on with it. Let's get this thing over with so I can get out of here and get on with more important matters." |
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The old man slowly opened his eyes, and when he did they appeared to be little more than empty glass orbs, tiny windows reflecting the images that he conjoured up from the recesses of his mind. |
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"I believe it would be best to start with the fate of one Harry Driver," Raymond droned in a monotone. |
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Charlie sagged back against the back of the sofa, propping himself up on one arm. "Yeah, Harry Driver. Why not? How is the pompous old prick? Still bangin' that fat little housekeeper of his?" |
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