’ ‘Not that. … Hm-hmm!’ ‘What are you chuckling about?’ ‘You used to smoke pipes. Here, rub your fingers on the tobacco.’ He held out ...he tin. With quizzical expression, the other rubbed his fingers on the loosened strands of tobacco with the experience of a practiced pipe smoker. He shrugged and asked: ‘So? … What just occurred to you … for the first time after fifty years?’ ‘Hmm! Hm-hmm! Funny that.’ ‘What?’ He smirked and glanced around, seeing that they were far from anyone who could. The others don’t like that I hole up in here. I heard them. I heard their words. They wanted to leave me, and move on before those…things…got back. The monsters. The things that took Sawyer from me, and from this world. Maybe he’s back in the world of blue skies and airports and laughter. I can only hope so. He promised he would never leave me. I haven’t heard the murmurs in a while. It could be days, but I have no way of knowing. My arms are too weak to reach the zipper, and I fear my eyes. More

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