“Because I’m tired of just existing,” I snapped. “At home, I didn’t belong. I never felt like I fit in, and no matter how hard I tried, it never made a difference. I know I don’t belong up here either, but at least I’m free to make my own decisions without being influenced by my past. This place provides me a clean slate, and I’m willing to see it through, no matter where it takes me.”
His cheerful smile was infectious. He always had a tune to hum, and for as big as he was, he could dance along the loading dock as smoothly as any dancer. Everyone liked him. He’d been working for us for about a year now, and I loved it when I worked in the shop on delivery day.
He took another drink of his whiskey and watched me. His eyes rarely left me, as if he was trying to memorize me or was staring at a painting.
