He was sitting on the grey couch as I came up, still not shielding his emotions from me as he looked at something on his Atlas. Whatever it was was confusing him a hell of a lot. There was some lust, longing, anger, irritation and a hell of a lot of pain. I stepped closer and snatched his Atlas from his hand before he could stop me. I flipped it around to look at it, expecting something from his father or maybe a newspaper article. I did not expect to see a photograph of Tory Vega in her underwear and a pair of filthy walking boots.
