Too easy to lose the way. Too hard to keep from unraveling when there’s nothing to remind you of who you are and where you should be. Another eternity passes in the flick of an eyelash.
The over-weight and out of shape guy who owned the house had apparently decided that having a half-million dollar house meant that he couldn’t afford to hire someone to clean out his gutters. Now he was dead with what looked to me like a broken neck after the ladder had slipped. He’d taken the plunge into his fancy landscaping—complete with rock garden. But hey, his fucking gutters were clean.
