What the Bread Was For

And the fact that this felt unbearable to him was, he slowly realized, exactly the point.

He was finally standing where Marlowe had stood four years ago: powerless, at the mercy of someone else’s choice, hoping to be believed and unable to compel it.

He had put her there.

Now he would live there too, for as long as it took, and he would have no right to complain about the view.

Chapter 17 — The Nightstand

That evening Desmond drove straight to his mother’s apartment.