When they were gone, Waylen walked in and closed the door behind him.

Then he took a seat across from Mark.

Mark sighed and asked him, “Do you happen to have any cigarettes on you?”

Waylen hesitated for a moment. Then without a word, he reached into his pocket and brought out a cigarette pack, pulled out a stick and gave it to Mark.

The last time Mark smoked was nearly six months ago.

His hands trembled as he lit the cigarette.

asked, “The test

say anything

impossible to fathom anything from

silence was enough for Mark to conclude that the result

long drag on his cigarette,

silent man in front of him, he said in a hoarse voice, “Waylen, since I was a child, I’ve always believed that every bullet has its billet. But still, I can’t bear to part

his unborn child was too

allow himself to die

die,”

he owed her. Whether or not they could be together, the children were his responsibility. Just

Waylen was no sentimentalist.

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