Walter Riley rose at 7:15 AM, ate his breakfast and got dressed.
“I’m going to finish my novel today,” he said to his wife, as she fussed over the buttons of his cardigan sweater.
“I know you are,” she said. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he replied.
He gathered his research materials and arranged them carefully into a leather briefcase with his initials engraved in the handle. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, winked at his wife, and stepped outside.
Walter Riley walked to his office, which stood about a quarter mile east of his front door. By now the sun was over the trees, warming his face as he smiled at the vivid images turning in his mind. Crucial moments in the life of his protagonist. A man he called Sol. A man so like himself, Walter Riley often lost sight of which life he was thinking about. His own. Or Sol’s.
Walter Riley loved Sol with all his heart. Even when he made terrible choices. Even when he said cruel things and lost sight of what mattered. Walter Riley knew w…
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