The sky wasn’t clear. There were a few clouds around, obscuring the stars and whatever there may have been. Peter was slightly distracted as he stared up through the scattered foliage, wondering where the moon might be. A frown creased his brow as he started adding the numbers in his head; what day of the month was it, and when was the last full moon? When was the last new moon? What were all the phases in between, again? And what phase was it on, now? He was slightly ashamed to admit to himself that he did not know, and he made a vow that as soon as he went inside he’d go and research the phases of the moon. The next time he came outside and looked up, he’d know exactly where the moon was and what it should look like, even if he could not see it.
The shame was a distraction, really. The notion that he needed to learn more and do more because he had more free time on his hands. As much free time as a man who ran four businesses could have, anyway. Except, the majority of his businesses were now running smoothly, without any hiccups or bugs. He had employees helping him out, and they were good employees, too. Steadfast. And they knew what they were doing. It took a lot of the work out of his own hands so that he could focus on the more important things.
Except, there was an empty space in his chest that he couldn’t quite figure out, though he assumed it had to do with the loss of Jersey. She hadn’t died, of course; she was still around. And although she had said she loved him, although she had, for all intents and purposes said it’s not you, it’s me, he did not believe her. But it wasn’t logical to get so caught up in those kinds of emotions; the disbelief and the heartache that he refused to acknowledge. So he distracted himself with other things. Like the moon.
A heavy body whacked itself against his thigh; Hunter, the big Doberman, wanted to play. He had a stick in his mouth and he looked up at Peter with eager expectation. The four other dogs were off doing their business or rifling through the undergrowth. Peter reached down and took the stick; Hunter immediately backed up. Peter threw the stick, and it went hurtling through the air and into the shadows of the park. Hunter immediately bounded after it.
Peter went back to crossing his arms over his chest, now staring into the darkness rather than up at the sky.
The shame was a distraction, really. The notion that he needed to learn more and do more because he had more free time on his hands. As much free time as a man who ran four businesses could have, anyway. Except, the majority of his businesses were now running smoothly, without any hiccups or bugs. He had employees helping him out, and they were good employees, too. Steadfast. And they knew what they were doing. It took a lot of the work out of his own hands so that he could focus on the more important things.
Except, there was an empty space in his chest that he couldn’t quite figure out, though he assumed it had to do with the loss of Jersey. She hadn’t died, of course; she was still around. And although she had said she loved him, although she had, for all intents and purposes said it’s not you, it’s me, he did not believe her. But it wasn’t logical to get so caught up in those kinds of emotions; the disbelief and the heartache that he refused to acknowledge. So he distracted himself with other things. Like the moon.
A heavy body whacked itself against his thigh; Hunter, the big Doberman, wanted to play. He had a stick in his mouth and he looked up at Peter with eager expectation. The four other dogs were off doing their business or rifling through the undergrowth. Peter reached down and took the stick; Hunter immediately backed up. Peter threw the stick, and it went hurtling through the air and into the shadows of the park. Hunter immediately bounded after it.
Peter went back to crossing his arms over his chest, now staring into the darkness rather than up at the sky.
[Wearing]
