She was in my father’s dojo, either winning or really losing. I smiled as I closed the door behind me, recognizing Banks’s growl.
“Ah!” A distant roar boomed as I stepped inside. I’d wanted to be home, though, and years later, there was still a comfort in walking through the front door of the house I grew up in. If trouble didn’t find him, he’d go looking for it. Will had it pretty good growing up, but he’d needed action. Michael’s home life had bored and aggravated him, and Damon wanted to be wherever we were. I was the only one out of my friends who didn’t mind being home. Edgar Allan Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death” “There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.”
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