I’m not sure how long I simply laid there, eyes closed, relaxing in the single piece of luxury I allowed myself. But it had to have been quite some ...ime, because I never heard Veritas come into the room. “You need a haircut, and a shave, Bishop,” she said softly, as her long fingers ran through my hair. My hair was a light brown, and though I try to keep it short enough to be manageable, my time on the road had allowed it to grow long, and scraggly, flowing down past my collar. My beard, was. It wasn’t some sick fascination, but a genuine interest in how it felt and how I survived. She was curious about how I was different now. I was vague with my answers to that question. I wasn’t sure myself just how I had changed. More hardened and less trusting? Probably. Unhappy? Possibly … or until I saw something in my future that would give me a sliver of optimism. The conversation was downbeat and I thought it was time to lighten it up or we would all be down in the dumps together. Denis. More

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