I didn't want to do it, but I had to.  I dialed her number.   Ever since our divorce, Penny and I had been just short of civil.  Even after all these years, I still dreaded the sound of her voice.  But there was no choice.  I dialed and waited.

"Hello?"  She sounded almost pleasant.

"Penny?"  I tested the waters.

"Terry."  Now there was the curt, clipped voice I remembered.

"I sent a birthday card to Henry and it came back to me in the post."

"Well, what address did you send it to?"  she sneered.

"Tinsdale, like always."  I was too tired to play.

She pounced.  "He hasn't been at Tinsdale for two months.  Jesus, Terry, you don't even know where your own son lives?"

I didn't take the bait.

"What's the new address?"  

"You're a bastard, you know."

"Yeah.  What's the address?"  I wanted this over quickly.

She unsheathed the claws.  "You know what your problem is?"

I resigned to the inevitable, and took a deep breath.

"Well, Penelope, you always had a comprehensive understanding of my shortcomings.  Enlighten me."

I could hear her smiling at the opportunity.

"You don't care.  You just don't care.  About him, anyway."  She sighed in disgust.  "Is there anybody you care about, Terry?  I doubt it.  I'd call you an egotist, but I don't think you even care about yourself."

"I care about the fucking address.  You got it or not?"

"I sent it to you.  Weeks ago."

"I haven't been home in weeks and I'm not going through all the mail tonight.  Just give me the address."

"Fine.  Write it down."  Ah, the condescending tone I thought I had escaped.  "Montgomery Hall, 1527 Lansdale, London, 5UP N16.  Got it?"

"Yeah.  What's his phone number?"

"Why, you plan on calling?"  She couldn't resist dragging this out.  Just like old times.

I sighed, but stuck to brevity.  "You never know."

"I doubt he'd take your call."

"Yeah, well he'll cash the birthday cheque, I'm sure."

Her anger always lay just dormant, waiting for the wrong word, the misstep.   

"Well, it's all a question of what you owe him, Terry, not what he owes you.  He doesn't owe you the time of day, so don't expect to get it from him."

I held back again, seeing the vague light at the end of the noisy tunnel.

"What's the number?"

"You've never been there for him.  Never.  You know it, too, or you'd be arguing with me."

I paused, hoping she would detect only anger, not vulnerability.  "I'm too tired to argue.  What's the number?"

"You just cut yourself off from people, Terry.  You always have.  Maybe it's what you have to do to be a good mercenary."

I bristled and gritted my teeth.  Ah, the trump card.  The nerve touched.  My anger energized me momentarily.  

"I. Am. Not. A. Mercenary."

She reveled in the direct hit.  

"Whatever tag you want to put on it.  Gun for hire, whatever."

My jaws clenched and my grip on the phone tightened. 

"Penny, give me the fucking phone number."

She took that long inhale, the one that signaled the closing argument.   

"You get a piece of my mind first.  You don't know where your son lives.  You don't give a shit about him other than a birthday card.  You're a cold bastard, Terry.  And that's what you'll end up feeling.  You cut yourself off from everyone and all you'll end up feeling is cold."

I maintained the clench and the grip and said nothing.  

She sensed her victory.

"020 - 74914052." 

I returned the receiver to its cradle with firm resolution.

Maybe it would have been easier to rummage through the pile of mail on my bed, looking for that dirty typewriter print she always used to address letters to me.  The personal touch. 

I stretched my arms over my head, made a slow, cathartic circle with my neck, and stared at the phone again.  This call would be even more difficult.

With some effort, the school receptionist located Henry, who came breathlessly to the phone, as if running.

"Yes?  Hello?"

"Hey, Henry."  The same greeting.  The intermittent ice breaker. 

"Sir."  His tone was formal.

I looked down at the returned envelope and took a breath.

"I wanted to let you know I didn't forget your birthday.  I've...I've been out of town for a few months.  I sent it to the Tinsdale address by mistake."

I waited for a response.  Nothing.

"I got it back in the post and I'm sending it to you now at Montgomery.  Okay?"

"Thank you, Sir."  Nothing further.

I felt myself fumble, trying not to sound desperate. 

"I'm s... sorry about that.  It was the address I had with me."

No response.  There must be something I could  think of to say, something we could talk about.

"So how are you?"

"Fine, Sir."  Henry's tone was always polite, like addressing an officer he'd just been introduced to.

"You like the new school?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Playing on the team yet?"

"Yes, Sir.  Forward, Sir."

"I'd like to come see a game."

There was a subtle increase in volume, a note of excitement.  "We play on Sunday."

I squinted my eyes shut.

"I'm...I'm heading out of town tomorrow."

The moment deflated.  No response.  I tried to recapture it.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone.  But when I get back, maybe I could come up and see a game.  I'd really like that."

"Yes, Sir," he said quietly.

"Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yes, Sir."

I smiled to myself and thought back to my youth, "I can barely remember when I turned twelve."

Henry paused.   "Thirteen, Sir."

It took the breath right out of me.   "Ah, right.  I missed a year."

"At least," he barely uttered. 

I felt my throat tighten and tried to swallow. 

"Yeah.  Listen, I'll let you go.  I just wanted to wish you happy birthday."

"Thank you, sir."

The bar in the hotel across from my apartment was half empty, normal for a Tuesday night.  I sat hunched over a beer at a table alone, feeling as restless as I was tired.  An unseen voice startled me.  Jumpy tonight, eh?

"So what's up?"  Dino always got to the point.

"Nothing."  

"What'd you call me down here for then?"  He draped himself over the arms of the chair beside mine.

"To have a beer, mate."

"You never call me to have a beer."  He tilted his head.  "You all right?"

My voice faltered a little, "Yeah, I just wanted to...I just wanted a friendly face for a minute."

How long had we been friends?  He knew me as well as anyone did.  He sensed the tension, my exhaustion, my mood.  He decided to take a slow approach.

"When d' ya get back?" his tone was less confrontational, but still probing.

"Last night."

He waved at the bartender, pointed at my bottle of Guinness, and motioned to himself.  The bartender nodded.

"How long you home for?"  He already knew the answer.  It was the regular pattern.

"I leave tomorrow."

He played along, arching his eyebrows in feigned surprise,  "Anywhere fun?"

Silence answered.  Oh yeah, classified.

He shook his head.  "Sorry.  I forget we don't work for the same company anymore.  Actually, it's fucking obvious.  If you worked where I do, you'd have time off between gigs.  Ian just loves to keep you on the road, doesn't he?" 

The bartender set the bottle in front of Dino and glanced over at me.  I looked up and nodded.  How many had that been tonight?

Dino interrupted my thought, "You look like shit.  Have I mentioned that?"

"Thanks."

He paused.  "Last gig rough?"

"Nah," I shrugged,  "standard shit."

The bartender returned with my fresh bottle and removed the emptied one.  Dino pressed again.

"I'm serious, man.  Are you okay?"

"Just jet lagged."

"Nah, I've seen you jet lagged.  This is something else."  His voice was quieter, more serious.  He licked his lips slowly and a smile crept over that ruddy complexion.  "I know that look.  You had a run in with the ex-wife tonight, right?"

My silence confirmed it.

"Usually you rant about her after a fight.  Why so quiet?"

I didn't have a good answer.

"Something she said get under your skin this time?  What was it?"

I shifted uncomfortably again in the chair.  "Nothing."  I gulped from my bottle, swallowed hard, and frowned.  "I just....  She said I cut myself off from people.  That I don't care about anyone."

"She's pissed, that's all.  She's wishing you were still dipping her."

"No.  She's right, actually.  I don't .....I just don't feel connected to anyone, ya know?"

Dino sipped his drink and adopted his matter-of-fact voice.  "Of course not.  That's the point of this job, right?  We aren't connected.  Total freedom.  No strings tying us to anyone." 

He assessed the impact of his words.  I still wasn't talking.  "That was the plan, right?  Dipping our way around the globe.  Why complicate life with baggage?"

I looked him in the eye for the first time since he arrived.  "You really think like that?"

"Of course I do," he scoffed.   "And so do you when you're not bone tired.  You really need time off, man.  Talk to Ian."

"It's not the job," I was looking down again, trying to find a way to make him understand.  "It's the times when I'm home.  It's...I can't explain it to you."

He became more animated.  "Well then I'll explain it to you.  Look, you're tired.  The only time you see your apartment is the twenty minutes between gigs when you're bone fuckin' tired."

I spoke louder than I intended.   "Yeah, I'm fucking tired, but that's not it.  I'm....I don't know the word."  I ran my finger down the edge of the bottle.

He snorted a mock laugh.  "Lonely?  You gonna tell me you're lonely?  You get more tail than anyone I know."

"There's more to it than tail, right?"  Talk about a rhetorical question.

Dino folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back dramatically in his chair, balancing it on its back legs. 

"Oh yeah," he got that grin I detested.   "I can see you in a serious, monogamous relationship.  That'd work.  You'd be gone, month after month.  She'd be waiting, wondering where you were or even if you were alive.  You'd be unable to contact her, wondering who's dipping her while you're out of town.  Yeah, that's a plan."

He eased the chair back to its four legged sturdiness and leaned into me, close enough to whisper.

"How a conversation with Penny would ever inspire you to want another serious relationship is beyond me."

He didn't get it.  He just didn't get it.  So I tried to explain.  "I'm not talking about marriage and white picket fences.  I'm talking about....being with someone you give a shit about, who gives a shit about you.  Actually wanting to get to know someone.  Connecting with somebody on any level at all."

There was a vague confusion in his eyes. 

"You have no fucking idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No, I don't.  The only thing I want is a woman whose company I can stand after I fuck her."

I coughed.  

He grinned that grin again, "I'm shallow but I'm honest."

We both smiled.

"Jesus, Terry, you need to get a grip."

"I just want to ...I'm tired of feeling nothing."

He turned suddenly serious.  "You start feeling something for people around you, man, and it'll interfere with the job.  It'll fuck up your ability to negotiate.  It'll make you hesitate to pull the trigger you need to."

I couldn't face him, but I listened.  

"It's a hazard in this business and you know it.  We cut ourselves off for our own survival.  It's what makes us good at the job.  And it's what we are, Terry.  It's the life you chose because it suits you."

I suspected he was right.  Yeah, I listened.

"Take some time, man.  Talk to Ian.   All you need a vacation and some strange."

"I'm tired of strange." 

"Tired of strange?"  He looked at me like the thought was unfathomable to him.  "Then you're not doing it right."

I sighed roughly, not meaning to, not wanting to, but unable to control my frustration.  "I'm just wondering what familiar would be like, ya know?"

"You talking about Penny?"

"Fuck no."

"Well, who then?  You've never talked about anybody special."  He wandered over the forbidden line.  "You ever cared about anyone else?"

"I've never cared about anyone at all," my volume still building.   "That's the fucking point."

"Penny?"

I shook my head.  I had never confessed this to anyone.  "I just wanted to fuck the general's daughter.  And she just wanted to fuck an Aussie."

"Yeah, well, who wouldn't." He finished his drink slowly.  "Look, I don't know what's got you in this funk, but you need to snap out of it or you'll be coming back from this next job in a box."

I snorted and shook my head, "This is how pathetic my life has become.  I haven't seen my apartment in four months, and instead of being there, I'm sitting here, talking to my only mate.  And I gotta tell ya, you're one hell of a pick me up."

"I am not a source of comfort, Terry, I'm a voice of reason.  That's why you called me."  He gulped down the last of his beer.  "Now this is what you're gonna do.  You get another drink, you get some strange, get some sleep, then tomorrow morning either you put on your game face or tell Ian to go fuck himself.  All right?"

"Yeah."  I didn't look up.

Dino stood up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.   "I'm leaving now, because there's a nice piece at the bar whose been eyeing you and I don't want to distract her with my obvious better looks." 

I looked up at him and smirked.

He walked away from the table, then turned and walked back.  His voice was calm, but firm.  "Call me when you get back, okay?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in and whispered, "Make her scream."

I managed an exhausted smile.  "Like a fuckin' banshee."

There was indeed a woman sitting at the bar, smart looking, sleek.  She glanced my way and angled her head ever so slightly.  A smile edged her top lip.  It woke me up just enough. 

It had been awhile since I'd held a warm body next to mine.   And the prospect of attractive women in Chechnya, tomorrow's destination, didn't sound promising.  I'd be negotiating through Russian military.  I knew the kind of women they kept around. 

Maybe this woman, this night was just what I needed.  Someone to be with me, touch me, relax me, even comfort me.  She had potential.  I had time.  Just couldn't face that empty apartment yet.

Pursue it or not?  Yes or no? I flipped the coin in my head, the usually tired and heavy coin.  This time, however, it tossed gently through my thoughts and landed with a spin of optimism.  Maybe she would be different.  Something about that look poked at the dying ember of my hope and flickered it into a spark.

I slid smoothly onto the stool next to her at the bar and started the dance.

"Good Evening."  I looked forward and took a sip from my bottle.

She smiled, but didn't look my direction.  "It may turn out to be yet."

There was a scent of perfume I vaguely recognized.  It became stronger as she swiveled to face me.

"I've been gauging your mood ever since I came in. I must say, it doesn't look like your friend cheered you up much."

"Maybe I just need a different kind of cheering," I grinned.  "Could I buy you another..."

I glanced at her drink and noticed it was a fresh one.

"Ah," my laugh came easily, "Too late."

She had a girlish giggle, but a deep voice, "I waited so long for him to leave I had to finally buy another one myself."

"Sorry about that.  He does tend to ramble on."

"What about you?"  She angled her head again, slowly.  "Are you the conversational type?"

"Not generally, no."

She smiled.  "Strong and silent works for me."

She took a long, deliberate sip from her glass.  "You in town for long?"

"I leave tomorrow.  And you?"

"I came into the city for a couple of days.  Needed a bit of a distraction."

"Don't we bloody all," I muttered.  But it wasn't a distraction I needed.  It was a connection.  I could find plenty of women who could distract me, even briefly hold my attention.  What I couldn't find was one who would hold me like she cared.

I looked at her intently.  There was a sparkle in her eyes that had been foreign to me for too long, a light that drew me in.  I felt that spark of hope crackle into the hint of a flame.

Dino was wrong: I didn't choose this life because I wanted to be cut off from people.  I had just allowed it too long.   Maybe the secret was being open to the connection itself, allowing enough time for a bond to take hold.  Instead of the full speed throttle toward getting off, a deliberate and slower paced scenic route.  A route we could share together.  Share.  Together.  That was it.

"Pardon me for saying it," she whispered discreetly, "but it looks like your day was pretty rough."  She moved closer and rested her thigh against mine.  "Maybe you just need someone to help smooth the edges."

My grin came so quickly, it surprised me.   "I imagine you'd be excellent at that."  

She spoke in that deep, musky tone.  "I don't believe in false modesty.  I'd be tremendous at that."

I traced a winding path, ever so lightly with my finger, from her wrist to her elbow.

"You know," I leaned in closer, "this music in here is a bit too loud for meaningful conversation."

She took the bait.  "Let's try my room upstairs.  Impressively stocked mini bar.  Volume control."  She finished her drink.  "We could continue our discussion of my many abilities and overall lack of modesty."

I drained the rest of my bottle.   "Shall we?"

Hers was identical to the other rooms I had briefly frequented at this hotel.  Still, I did a comprehensive sweep, to gauge her.  It was neat, everything in its place, almost devoid of any personal effects, save the rather obvious pack of condoms on the night stand.   She was definitely planning on company.   I adjusted the radio to a quiet, instrumental station and smiled at her lack of subtly.She noticed my smile and returned it.  Arching her back seductively, she pulled off her jacket, revealing a shapely, contoured blouse.  I stepped quickly toward her, took the jacket with a slight flourish and folded it gingerly across the back of a chair.

"You're military, aren't you?" she purred.

I blinked at the sudden remembrance of the conditions under which I had left the service.  "What gave me away?"

"The politeness, the posture, the way you survey a room looking for potential land minds," she moved closer, "the musculature."  

She ran her palm up my arm, squeezed my bicep, and licked her lips.

"Traveling businessmen don't usually have shoulders and arms like yours."  

I glided into her, took her hand, and circled my arm firmly around her waist.

"Do you dance?"

"Not usually, no." she said stiffly.  "Don't like it much."

I edged my hip into hers.  "Think of it as vertical foreplay."

A gleeful, naughty look spread over her face and she pressed her crotch into mine.

"Hmmm, do they teach you to salute with everything?"

"It's a sign of respect to be at full attention," I growled.

"I'd love to show it some attention myself," she purred and licked her lips.

"All in good time, love."

I pulled aside her mass of hair and lightly kissed her exposed neck.  She moved into the kiss briefly, then twisted away and bit me intently on the throat.

I gently redirected her gaze to mine.  "Slow down, feel the music."

"I'd rather feel those gorgeous hands of yours on my skin."

She pushed back from me, playfully, I thought, and started unbuttoning her blouse.  I enfolded her hands in mine and stopped her.  Suddenly, there was no smile, no sense of invitation, just a short intake of breath as if it took effort for her to slow down.  She needed to know I was in charge.

"I can do that when the moment is right."

"You don't need to waste time with the whole slow seduction routine, baby," she sighed,  "I'm more than ready."

I felt my teeth grind momentarily, but forced a smile.   "Let's just enjoy each other's company a bit, eh?"

She feigned a dance move, but then slumped limply in my arms, conspicuously unengaged.  A change in tactics was called for.  I released her and gestured toward the mini bar.

"You want a drink?"

She spoke with a growing frustration.  "What I want is some action.  Come on, already."  She glanced at my crotch.  "At least part of you is interested in embarking on a military maneuver or two."

Alright, a more direct approach, but still at my pace.  I stepped resolutely toward her, ran the tips of my fingers down her neck and over her breast.  I unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, deliberately.  

She sighed again and assisted with the last two buttons.  The spark was flickering out, so I tried to stoke it. 

I peeled her blouse away from her shoulder, planting light kisses from the base of her neck to her ear.  Cradling her chin in my palm, I brought her face to mine and eased a warm, intent, engulfing kiss on her mouth.  My tongue softly traced the edge of her top lip.

She would feel it now; I was sure.  She would sense my pace and join it.  We would flow together like two rambling streams joining into a common river.  We would glide downstream, tumble over the rocks and eventually find the rapids. 

I wrapped her tighter in my arms, squeezed my eyes shut and hoped.  I hoped I would feel the warmth of that spark.  I hoped I would feel something.  Anything.  Any resemblance to closeness.  I was open to it and it would happen.  This moment now, I would find it.  I was sure.

But her lips did not part.  Her tongue did not dance with mine.  Her arms did not slide up my back in response.  Instead she angled her head back from me, wriggled herself out of my grip and pushed me away.

And then she laughed.

"Look, I don't want a first date with a potential boyfriend.  I just want to get laid."  She sighed again, impatience defining her face.   "I thought that's what you had in mind."

She took two steps back for sheer fucking drama.  "You are boring me to tears.  What a disappointment."

Disappointment?  She had no fucking concept of the paralyzing weight of true disappointment.  The spark went dead.  The only heat I felt was from my rising temper.  I spoke through clenched teeth.

"I was hoping that smoothing my rough edges would involve savoring you like a fine brandy."  My eyes narrowed and I drew a jagged breath.   "But I see the only smoothing you're offering is by sandpaper."

"Rough and ready," she sneered.   "That's what I like.  That's why I gravitate toward military types."  She looked me up and down with distain.  "Did you miss that part of the training altogether?"

She buttoned up her blouse again, and scoffed.

"Guess you can't judge a man by his shoulders.  Maybe I'll head back down to the bar and find a real man of action.  One who won't retreat from the task at hand, eh, soldier boy?"

I covered the ground between us in an instant, grabbing her wrists in one hand and swinging her around so her back was against my chest.  With my free hand, I clawed roughly at her blouse, tearing two buttons completely off. 

It wasn't the disappointment that defeated me.  It was the hope.  The futile hope that it would be different, this one time, it would be different because I was ready.   Finally, ready to be close to someone.  But it didn't change anything.  It was just the same.  The same indifference.  Just a series of empty moves.  Like exercise.  Just tedious fucking exercise.  Nothing more.

I groped for her bra.  A front loader.  Christ.  I unhooked it in a quick, automatic motion.  She laughed out loud.

"Special talent, at last."

"Special forces," I growled.

"That's more like it."  She squirmed in mock captivity.  

Why did I set myself up for this?  Why risk opening myself just to be slammed shut again?   Only one reason, to disprove what I feared was true.  And the words of that truth screamed inside my head: This Is All There Is.  A pale imitation of what I yearned for. 

And the one thing I knew for certain: it wasn't enough.  It had never been enough.  But it was all I could have.  Maybe it was all I deserved.  Tired of strange?  Damned right I was.  Strange meant exactly that: impersonal, robotic, cold.  Just exercise.  Like fucking a treadmill.

I released her wrists, picked her up by her waist, and carried her the few steps to the bed.  I shoved her onto the edge, face down and pushed her knees up under her chest.  Needed some height.  The bed was too damn low. 

She wanted military maneuvers, eh?  I'd demonstrate the get in, complete the mission, and get out quick scenario.

I stood behind her, surveying the territory.  This was how it always was:  no face to look at me, just a firm, round ass awaiting my attention.  I slid the skirt up passed her hips and tore the spaghetti strap of her panties.   They withered to the floor.   

She registered the clink of my belt as I unbuckled it.  She liked the sound and shivered, waiting for more.  Maybe I should use it on her.  She might like it.  Fuck it; that would take time.  I reached over and grabbed a condom off the table, unzipped and pushed my jeans down just far enough.  Why get undressed?  Would take too long.   I tore open the condom pack and rolled it on smoothly.

I drove into her.  What the hell; she was ready.   She gasped at the sudden surprise.  Well, she didn't want a slow seduction.  It felt tighter than I expected and for a moment I was almost focused on it.  But then I began running through the roster of what I needed to pack for the trip, what was the climate there like, did I have my Russian translation manual handy, what time was the flight? 

She groaned and pressed herself closer to me, redirecting my attention.  Oh yeah, what was I doing?  I almost laughed.  She had succeeded in boring me.  We were even. 

I heard Dino cheering me on.  Tired of strange?  Then you're not doing it right, indeed.  I grabbed her hips roughly and slammed into her.  Little noises growled from her throat.  Were they signs of pleasure or frustration?   What's the difference? 

A shiny bead of sweat traveled down the small of her back.  She bent her elbows for leverage and tried to raise herself up, but I pushed her shoulders down.   I'm in charge, bitch.  My hand returned to her hip, then reached slowly around the front to tease her with pleasure.  I might as well get her off.  If only to show her I was literally up to the task at hand.  When I dragged a finger over it, she gasped and stretched out her arms, dropping her chest to the bed. 

Her breathing became faster and louder; she sucked drool through her lips. I made tiny circles with my finger, varying the pressure, still driving into her.  Then she was off.  Screamed like a fucking banshee.  Not doing it right, eh, Dino?  

I felt her muscle grip me and my head snapped back suddenly.  Yeah.  There.  Right there.  I fumbled for a tighter grasp on her hips as I finished.  I was panting as a trickle of perspiration traced my temple.  Ah, broke a sweat.   Exercise done.

After I pulled out, she rolled onto her side and curled into a fetal position, smiling.  I dropped the condom in the wastebasket.  I should have gotten a towel, but the sheet was closer.  Zipped up and took a small bottle from her mini bar.  It was only a few strides to the door.

"Hey, baby," her voice was smoky and rough.  "You can try all that up close and personal crap.  But deep down, you're just like me."   She smiled that musky, sense heightened smile.  "You're my favorite kind of fuck.  You didn't even ask my name.  Strangers in the night, baby.  It doesn't get better than this."

I pulled the door closed behind me and watched the pattern of the carpet pass beneath my feet.  

My bed finally felt welcoming, and I contemplated the pattern of tiny cracks edging their way across my ceiling.  The shrill ringing of the phone startled me and I fumbled for the receiver.

"Yeah."

"Terry?"  That voice, but softer somehow.

"Penny."  God, I didn't have the energy for another round tonight.

"Henry said you called him."

"Yeah."

Her inflection was lighter, non-combative, almost genuine.  "He was pretty excited about that."  

"Could have fooled me."

"Excited enough to call me about it."  

I barely recognized this tone.  It was almost affectionate.

"Yeah."

"He just doesn't know how to talk to you, Terry.  I think the reverse is true, too."

"Is there a reason why you're calling me?"

"I'm trying positive reinforcement on you.  It was a nice thing for you to call him."

"Okay."  Fine.  Now leave it alone.

She persisted, but softly.

"Listen, I was a little rough with you before.  I thought you just forgot his birthday.  I didn't realize you'd been out of town."

"I'm always out of town."

"I mean for that length of time."  She took a conciliatory breath.  "I'm sorry I called you a mercenary."

"Okay."

"Terry," another pause, "you didn't sound quite like yourself when we talked before.  Are you feeling okay?"

Maybe it was her tone, the faint indication of someone who cared.  Maybe I was just tired.  I paused and swallowed hard.

"I feel cold.  Just like you said."  I swallowed again.  "I feel nothing, but cold."

She whispered, almost tenderly.

"You might meet someone someday who could change that."

I felt the sting of my empty room, my empty life, my empty heart.

"I really need to get some sleep.  I fly out in the morning."

"Okay.  Thanks for calling him.  Stay safe."

I returned the receiver and pulled my tired fingers down the length of my face.  I searched inside my closed eyelids for a sign of that spark....but found only an ember.  Nothing but an ember, first dying, then cold.