Well I suppose I should start off telling you me and Angela did get married. It was inevitable, at least, that’s what everybody said. But I know now, and I think I may’ve known then that it wasn’t good for either of us. I had this part of me that meant I’d never be anybody’s perfect husband. I mean, hell, I never did love her like Jesse.
        It was just, well I knew she loved me, and I really did care about her. I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d break another heart. And it was expected, not just by her, by everybody. Besides she was the best friend I had by then, couldn’t be too awful living with my best friend, right?
        Still, friendship couldn’t keep our first night as a married couple from being awkward as hell. We hadn’t, uh, consummated yet. Well I mean it wasn’t that she hadn’t tried, and hell maybe I’d been a little bit curious. Still, every time she got too close I got nervous and ended up just pushing her away. Between that and her family raising her as a good Christian girl I guess it was enough to put off that inevitability. But after the wedding she was not gonna wait any longer. I’d kinda expected, it was obvious she wanted to. And I prepared for it the only way I could think of.
        I had never drunk so much before, and between that and my uh, my preferences, I couldn’t get hard for her. At least she blamed it on the alcohol; I didn’t want her to think she wasn’t pretty or something. And we did eventually get me worked up, it just took both of us stroking and petting, and I had to imagine Jesse, my fox beneath me instead of my wife. It worked, I even came, though I caught myself a coupla times trying to call out his name. And though there was blood she reassured me, said her mother told her this’d happen her first time. She insisted it wasn’t cause of me being too rough, she really had enjoyed it.
       A few weeks passed, a few nights where she pulled me to her and things played out less awkwardly, and I was beginning to think maybe this whole marriage thing was working out. And then one night, me and Angela’re laying in bed, her hand is tracing slow circles in my chest fur, and for some reason, she’s avoiding eye contact. Finally she turns to me and asks, “Jim?” Everyone called me Jim by then, “Jim? What were you dreaming ‘bout last night? You kept muttering, calling out to someone.”
       My jaw hung slack. Of course I remembered the dream, I’d had it many times before, but I couldn’t let her know who was leaving me, or why. I looked at her, and I guess I held her tighter to me because she squirmed and made a small noise, “Hon, it’s okay. Was it a girl?” Her voice drops, “Did she die?”
        “Wha- uh yeah.” I admit, I had an almost too easy time lying to my wife. “Yeah, she, she died. Years ago.” It became surprisingly easy to make my first love a girl then kill him off. 
        She hugged me tightly to her, “You poor thing! You just kept calling out to her, over and over. Was it that girl from Beaumont who died our sophomore year?”
        “Her truck. She drove off in her truck.”
        “Was it a terrible accident?”
        I couldn’t look at her anymore at this point, never could keep eye contact when I was lying, “Yeah. Awful. Not much left.” She seemed satisfied with that, at least she nodded and turned off the lamp, tucking herself down into the comforter and in a few minutes her breathing was slow and steady.  
        Me, I laid awake in the dark, listening to hear breath and trying to fight off the panic creeping at the edges of my brain. I’d never been able to stop having those dreams, and now I’d hafta worry about being overheard. It’s no surprise really that it took me hours to fall asleep. Even then I woke up a little later, Angela hugging me so tight that I wondered how she could keep a grip like that without waking up.
        Despite the dreams, and the way she usually had to drag me into bed, we had an alright marriage for a few years. Almost a year in Angela gave birth to one of the most beautiful little girls I’d ever seen, our Delilah. People in town thought we were a great couple, going to church events and everything. And though I thought about it, and sometimes the desire got so strong I could do nothing but jack off and curse myself, inches away from trying something stupid for a little relief, I managed to keep from doing anything queer.
        At least, I did for those first few years.
        I guess it’d been a rough few weeks, when it all did fall apart; Angela was wanting another baby, pressuring me to make love to her more frequently, trying all kinds of wives’ tales to get knocked up. Plus there was this new fox at the refinery, and I mean I know he was younger, I know the markings were all wrong and he even had a few more scars that he proudly showed off, but I couldn’t help but pine for Jesse every time I saw him. I think it was the laugh that did it. He was always laughing, loved jokes, and even though his were much deeper, it always felt like it was the same as Jesse’s laugh, the one that always disarmed me. I’d find that the more time I spent near him, the more my hand would slide into my pocket and finger at that matchbook. And the more I’d hafta sneak off, usually later at home, too often at work, and take care of myself quietly, reliving those old trips to the woods.
        Besides that, Angela was telling me I was having those dreams again. Not that I needed her to tell me, I’ve dreamt of Jesse off and on ever since he left. But now I was getting vocal about it again, even, embarrassingly, some more excited dreams that left Angela joking that she never thought she’d be jealous of a dead girl.
        And I guess it all got to be too much, to the point where one Friday I left the refinery and just kept driving, heading west, hoping to hit Houston, or maybe that Montrose place Ray’d talked about years back. I could’a done it, too, if Angela hadn’t’ve called.
        See I’ve got one of those new cellular phones. I thought they were a terrible thing, I figured if I was somewhere without a phone, I didn’t want people to be able to reach me anyway. But my wife insisted I get the damn thing, in case of accidents or something happens to the kids or something. And y’know, she always seemed to get her way. 
       Anyway I was halfway to Houston when I get this angry phone call from her, asking why I was missing dinner. I told her I was, well I almost told her I was leaving. I tried, but the words failed me. There was a part of me that had wanted to scream, to yell at her that I was miserable, that I was a burn in hell faggot and all those dreams that plagued me were for the only MAN I’d ever loved, he’d left me ‘cause I was too chicken shit to leave, that I married her because it was the God-damned path of least resistance! I wanted to let it all out, to yell and scream and make someone else feel what I’d put myself through since high school, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt her like that, or anyone else really. Besides, I knew it was really all my fault. All of it was my fault.
        So instead I told her I’d had an unexpected thing come up at work, I had to spend the night in Houston. Yes, I knew I had the cell, no, I wasn’t trying to upset her, yeah I just forgot to call. I’d see her sometime tomorrow.
        I figured even a little time away from home might help me. But that woman was determined. She wanted me to grow a backbone and tell my boss I had a family to be with. I couldn’t help thinking it funny she’d say that, ‘cause I knew if I’d had a back bone I’d break her heart, woulda left her a long time ago.  
        I pulled over to the side of the road, didn’t even know where I was, I just knew that I’d finally convinced her that I had to stay in Houston for the night. It’s so much easier lying when you don’t hafta see their face.
        I still didn’t know quite what to do when I got out of the truck, I just paced around it a few minutes, then walked over and flopped in the bluebonnets. Of course, lying to Angela got my mind stuck on broken hearts, and that meant thinking of Jesse. I remembered that matchbook. That damned matchbook. Well, I had my cell, and it was early in the evening so there was still plenty light out. I rolled onto my right side to pull out my wallet, then my left to get out my phone. 
        I found it in one of the small pockets, slipped behind one of those “key passages” mini bibles the church gave us to hand out. For a moment I paused, holding the thin cardboard in my hand, rubbing it gently as all these thoughts and doubts raced through my mind, ‘He might’ve moved. Would he even want to talk to me? I have a wife and kid. What would people think, hell what would God think?’
       At the last thought, I huffed out a breath. That was part of what separated us in the first place, and I wasn’t about to let it get in the way again. Determined, I turned the matchbook to the back, and the number’s gone. Panicked, I leaned in closer, squinting in the evening light. I could almost make out the numbers, they were there, but the years of carrying it with me had worn and faded them. In frustration, I yelled and threw it all, my phone, my wallet, and the matchbook into the ditch, then turned and kicked the truck.
       Not sure if it was because of the yelling or what, but a burgundy sedan pulled over behind me. I admit, I panicked at first, somehow thinking my gay thoughts would be showing on my face. 
       “Engine trouble?” I heard a man’s voice ask. 
        I looked up long enough to determine that he’s a deer. But like I said before, I can’t look at people when I lie so I studied the pattern of birds flying across his shirt, “Yessir. Just called the tow truck.”
       “Alright, just wondered ‘cause I saw you throw yer fancy phone there, and I thought the damned thing had failed ya.”
        I shook my head and started to pick up my stuff, “Naw, I’d just heard how much it was gonna cost me.” He handed me the matchbook off the ground as we chuckled, and I was able to look him in the face again. He had a very friendly, comfortable face, and I maybe looked a little longer than I should have as we shook hands, and as he walked back to his sedan. I definitely shouldn’tve looked at his ass, but I was pretty sure he didn’t catch me.
       As soon as he was out of sight, I pulled the matchbook back out and strained to read it. The light was fading now, and it proved impossible, even with the truck’s cab light. 
       Finally, I did the only thing I knew to do. The phone rang only once before a professional voice answered. “Operator, how may I help you?”
       “Um, yeah Operator could you help me place this call?”
       “Certainly sir, do you know the number of the party you’re trying to reach?”
       “Well, uh y’see the number on the matchbook is old and faded. But I do have a name. Jesse Thomas.”
       “And is she in the greater Houston area?”
        It seemed whenever I talked about Jesse nowadays, he became a she, it was the only lie I seemed to have no trouble with anymore. “Ah, no. She’s, well last I heard she was living in LA. With some guy named Ray, uh, Ray Yarbrough.”
       “Do you know if the number is in her name sir?”
       “What? No, no. I just, can you look up any Jesse Thomas’s in Los Angeles?”
       The line went quiet for a few minutes, but somehow she found him. My eyes started tearing up as I told her to hold on a minute while I find something to write with. There was a pen on the floor under some fast food bags, and an old receipt in the cup holder. I guess the emotions started to get to me, cause I just got more and more teary eyed as she read the number to me.
       By the time I’d copied it down, what with my crying and the bad light of the car, I couldn’t read what I’d just wrote. “Oh operator, before you go, could you help me make this call. I uh, can’t read the number you just gave me.” I couldn’t hold back a sniffle.
       “Are you alright sir?”
       “Yeah, yeah. I just, there’s something in my eye. It happens a lot.”
       The operator tells me to wait just a minute, and before I have a chance to thank her and tell her she’s been more than kind, I hear a ring. 
        I panicked. I couldn’t move during the second and third rings, frozen either in nerves or fear. And on the fourth ring, right when I was debating hanging up, there was a crackle, and the phone was being lifted from the receiver. And then, a voice on the line, “Hello?” and I deflated. It wasn’t him. It was just some girl. Probably the operator chose the female’s number because of what I’d said. 
        I don’t remember hanging up, or restarting the car. I don’t recall the drive or anything else until I found myself somewhere between Cove and Houston in a shitty little bar, I remember looking up from the beer in my hand and seeing a familiar pattern of birds flying.
       “Well, looks like you got yer engine trouble fixed.” How did I end up here, of all places? With him? I half recalled seeing a burgundy sedan sitting in the parking lot outside.
       “Yep. Turns out it was just out of gas. Still cost me more than a tank of gas should, but it’s cheaper than I’d expected.” It occurred to me later I was looking at his face while lying, he really had a nice face. “Did I thank you for stopping earlier? ‘Cause I meant to if I didn’t.”
       So we talked, and we drank, and I drank, and he talked, and I don’t know if I let something slip, or he made the first move, but somehow I found myself walking with him back to his pretty little sedan, right where I half imagined I’d seen it earlier, and riding to a nearby cheapass motel. 
       We burst into the room, if only because I’d leaned against the door while he unlocked it. It’s strange, but for a night where I forgot so much, I can remember everything about sleeping with Frank. The stale smell of old cigarette smoke hovering around the room, the outdated matching wallpaper, curtains, and bed, the dim light and buzz of the mercury bulb outside the window.
        But mostly I remember Frank. The way his antlers, mostly grown in for the spring, would occasionally scratch the ceiling, the warm browns of his thin coat of fur, the feel of his strong arms around me as he pressed his lips to mine, the taste of cheap beer that lingered in our mouths. 
        It didn’t take long for him to lose his shirt, then his jeans and briefs. He was beautiful, strong and tall, with a lightly muscled chest and brown fur that wrapped around him and met a creamy underbelly. I let my eyes trail down the white ‘til they hit his, well his rather impressive length. I admit, I let myself stare, admire, taking in and savoring the sin I’d held off for so long. His dick was huge, bigger than even the toy Jesse’d given me, and it worried me to see what had to be something a bit shy of a foot on him, but I’m ashamed to admit I was also excited. 
        He smirked at me, letting out a soft chuckle, “I appreciate that you’re lovin’ the show, but were you gonna undress too?”
        I blushed and turned away, quickly unbuttoning my work shirt and dropping my pants. My hands paused on my briefs, holding the band in my hooked thumbs when I suddenly felt his arms wrap around me, his erection rubbing against the cotton stretched over my butt. He buried the side of his muzzle in my mane as he pressed himself to me. A soft whimper escaped me as I pushed back, my tail curling itself outta the way of the thick shaft that left a damp spot on my underwear.
        Frank chuckled when my tail moved, letting his hoof-tipped fingers drag through my chest fur, “I had you pegged as a bottom the moment I saw ya.”
        I turned pretty red at that, and part of my mind started to worry that I was so obvious, but those thoughts got pushed to the back when I felt his teeth nibbling my ear and his rough fingers starting to tug down my briefs. I was already hard when he started rubbing and massaging my crotch, though I did start to moan then, grinding my butt back against his dick, excited and intimidated by the feel of the hot length as it slipped and rubbed between my cheeks.
        He paused, holding me and waiting ‘til I gave a soft whine before he asked, “Do me a favor, I got some lube in my jeans over there. Fetch it for me.” I nodded, though I wasn’t quite ready to peel myself away from the buck, but the smack he gave my butt got me past my hesitation. 
        I found three little packets, like ketchup in his pocket, and he took them from me, asking me to turn around. I’ll admit, I really presented to him, must’ve been drunker than I thought. But he certainly appreciated the view, my upturned rump with my tail hiked up out of the way. I heard him squirt some into his hand, then felt the cold sliminess of the fluid as his fingers started to rub it at my hole, gently pushing as they worked around it. After a few minutes of massaging along the ring, getting me a little more relaxed, he slipped a finger in and I moaned eagerly. Even looking back, my eagerness surprises me, I guess I was a little surprised it didn’t hurt at all that time cause the pain was always one of my biggest fears when me and Jesse... Either way he starts working his finger in and out, getting me to squirm and mewl like a little kitten. “Must’ve been a while for ya, you’re gonna need some real stretching.”
        I blushed and simply nodded in reply.
        After he’d worked that one finger inside me for a while I felt another slip in, with only a slight off feeling, still no pain. He gave a soft pant behind me, leaning himself against me as he started to work both fingers, gently stretching my hole, working my ring back and forth so I’d only ever feel a moment’s discomfort between little spikes of pleasure. 
        I actually whimpered wantingly when he pulled his fingers out, making him give a soft chuckle and lean in to nip on my ear again, “Don’t worry,” I heard the squirt of a lube packet again, “you won’t be empty long.” He suddenly pushed three fingers in at once, making me hiss and clench. It took only half a second before I’d relaxed again, and within moments I was pushing back at his knuckles. “Damn you are an eager boy.” He’d said, stretching his fingers wider before slowly tugging them back out.  
        He worked with all three fingers for just a little bit more before pausing. “Alright, are ya ready?” he asked softly, his fingers pulled just to the edge of my ring. 
        I gave a small nod, managing to hold back enough that my “Please,” was just a whisper. Still, he heard it, and with a tight hug he positioned his slickened shaft at my entrance and slowly started to press against it.
        As eager as I was, and as careful as he was to stretch me, it was still a little uncomfortable pushing in. I grit my teeth and grunted, and he paused, asking if I was alright. I nodded, I just wanted to feel him inside me, and he started to press in again. With each inch stretching me further, it took all of my remaining concentration to keep myself relaxed.
        He only pushed in about halfway first time. His fingers rubbed gently through my chest mane as he began to draw back, me panting softly as I felt that burning hot length pulled from within me, then suddenly pushed back in, going a little further and making me gasp and dig my claws into the ugly comforter.
        “Shh, shh it’s okay,” he whispered in my ear as he slowly started to mate with me, gentle thrusts pushing his shaft deeper each time as I mewled beneath him, adjusting as we went to the thickness pressing deep into me. Kinda ashamed to admit it, but pretty soon I was starting to push back each time I was ready for more. 
        It was pretty slow going after the first few inches, his fingers didn’t reach as far as his shaft. But he was patient, maybe even more’n I was. And to my surprise I suddenly felt his hips pressed to my ass and his satisfied grunt as he finally buried the whole length inside me. He paused, both of us panting and my hind claws scratching a bit at his leg as I marveled at the length inside me. 
        The buck nuzzled my cheek, asking me softly, “You alright?”
        I, uh, I’m embarrassed to remember it now, but after a second more of adjusting and marveling at what all was inside of me, I nodded and said, “I’m amazing.”
        And with my blessing, he wrapped his arms around me, pulled back out, and started to rut. Thrusting more quickly into me, panting and lowing softly as he mated me, made me his doe. I moaned in his arms, hands balling into fists clenched tight around the bedspread as I thrust back at him, the bed shifting and squeaking loudly beneath us.
        He kept going faster, it seemed, building up his thrusts ‘til I couldn’t keep up anymore and locking me in with a mating bite as his groin slapped off of my ass cheeks, one hooved hand reaching down and grasping at my shaft, starting to stroke it real rough and quick.
        Between the rough fucking, the excitement at finally laying with another man, and the feeling of suddenly having another hand on my cock I orgasmed almost right away. I could feel my body suddenly seize and then relax as my semen started to shoot outta me across the quilt, surprising both of us I think with a pleasured roar.
        The buck only paused a moment when I clenched and roared, then just gripped me tighter, hips pounding off of mine for a minute longer before he too lowed out his orgasm, pumping thick spurts of his semen into my ass, making me moan with the feeling of the heat slowly filling me as I started to slump.
        I must’ve passed out a few minutes later, when I woke up I was spooned up against him, my ass sore and sticky and his soft shaft resting against it. And an amazing hangover. 
       I wasn’t really sure where I was for a moment, heck with the feeling under my tail I actually woke up thinking I was with Jesse. I uh, even said his name as I turned, and jumped a bit when instead I saw the buck smiling back at me. “No, it’s Frank. But Jesse’s gotta be a pretty lucky dude.”
       “Shit!” I yelled, realizing a moment later that I’d cursed. I couldn’t believe that I’d cheated on Jesse! But as the fog cleared and the buck, er, Frank was frowning and sitting up I mentally chided myself. Angela, I’d cheated on my wife, not my fox.
        “Fuck, I’m married!” I cried out as I jumped from the bed, falling gracelessly to the floor with my legs tangled in bedding.
        Frank just sighed and rubbed his thumb and forefinger on his forehead, “Goddamn, another closet case. Look Bud, it’s okay. Clearly you needed to work out somethin’ your wife can’t give ya. You watch, I’ll bet some of the tension’ll be gone when you get back home.” He was looking at me, kinda forcing a smile as he spoke.
        He said more, too, but I can’t remember most of it, I was still panicking, and guilty, pissed at myself for thinking of Jesse before my wife. Besides that my head was pounding, and at some point the alarm clock went off shrilly next to the bed just to add to all the confusion. 
        Still, eventually Frank’d talked me down, even given me another hug from behind before he started to get dressed, quietly and kinda awkwardly. Although I made a point of looking away this time, and trying to not remember his naked body even as he dressed. 
       I heard the door open, but didn’t hear his hoof-feet hit the pavement outside. I turned to look and he was looking back, still calm as ever. “Listen Bud, not sure you wanna hear this, but the way you went at me last night, I think you owe it to yourself and your wife to rethink your current living situation.”
       I wish I’d protested, or yelled, or something. Instead I just nodded, muttered, “Yeah” under my breath. Before I thought to say anything else he was gone, and past the door I could hear his pretty sedan starting up.
        I think I spent a full hour in the dingy motel shower. I dunno, I just didn’t feel clean. Kept trying to calm myself down, clean any traces of male scent from my fur, be presentable again. I felt like maybe I could wash enough away that Angela’d never hafta know. 
        I kept reliving parts of the night in my head, having to stop myself from getting excited whenever I did. It was really only then that I realized I’d left my truck back at the bar, and later after I’d dropped off the key I walked back silently, still going over everything and fighting the occasional erection. It only took about 20 minutes to find my way back, and the rest of the morning I spent driving home, trying to drown out my thoughts by turning the radio up louder.
        It turned out Angela’d found out she was pregnant that night I spent with Frank. She’d been really excited to tell me, in fact she’d told me the good news as soon as I got home. Then she chewed me out for just driving off on some work assignment without telling her first. She was even more upset because I hadn’t been as overjoyed as her at the good news. And because I wasn’t able to tell her much about what they’d wanted me to do in Houston.
        Still, with the second baby finally on the way, things calmed down pretty quick at home. Angela was happier as she worked around the house, little Delilah had all kinds of curious questions that we mostly avoided, and I wasn’t forced to uh, to perform my husbandly duties. It wasn’t ‘til about two months later that everything fell apart.
        Angela’d been feeling sick, burning and aching in ways she didn’t remember from carrying Delilah and had gone in to the doctor a week before to make sure everything was okay. She was in the living room, watching some awful talk show and patching a hole in one of my shirts when the phone rang. I got to it first, but the doctor asked for her so she set aside her mending and took the phone from me.
        I knew she’d been worried, and I could tell she had on her brave mask as I watched her take the receiver and greet Dr. Bruhns. But after a few minutes of talking that started to slowly fall, her hand moving down to grasp at her belly. I stood at that, but didn’t walk over. Just stood and worried, watching her from across the room.
        She hung up the phone, her other hand joining the first in cradling her stomach. She’s quiet, and I’m just standing there, watching her, not knowing whether to comfort her or keep my distance. Slowly, she looks up, her eyes find my feet and follow them up my body. When her face settles on mine she’s expressionless. But that soon changes. Her whole snout warps into a scowl, contempt and anger and hurt all combining to mar her slender face.
       “What have you DONE!” She yells it more than asks, and as my mouth gapes open she runs at me. I stagger backward, covering my face as she gets to me, slapping me and yelling
       ‘What have I done? What have I done to our baby? To her? Brought some disease into our bed!’ She never even asked who it was. That was what I’d feared the most, her knowing I’d been with that buck, with another male, and in the end she didn’t even care about the who.
       She got off me, and stormed into our bedroom, slamming and locking the door. Delilah must’ve come in the front door because I looked down and she was crying and asking why we were fighting. I told her to go to Samantha’s, trying my best to drown out the bangs and curses coming from her mother in the next room. Mercifully, our daughter was out the door before Angela started yelling again. “You coulda just broken my heart, but no, you had to ruin me too. Ruin me and kill your child. Well no more and fuck you Mr. Deuteronomy James Shondell, you ain’t gonna hurt me again.” 
       She was yelling so loud I was afraid the neighbors would hear, and underneath all that noise was her banging things around. Thumps and clacks, slams and drawers and all sorts of racket from in that room, all the while she was yelling at me, and I’m bawling because I know every word of it was true. I’d broken another heart. I’d let myself slip once more into sin, and now everyone I cared about was going to suffer the consequences.
       Finally the racket stopped and the door swung open, banging off the wall. I raised my head to blubber out a pathetic apology but well, well I saw the suitcases. Her best, a matching floral set my mother had saved up to buy her as a wedding gift. I managed to stop my crying enough to beg, cry out “No Honey, don’t go Delilah needs you, both the kids’ll need you, please I’m so sorry.”
       “Damn right the kids need me. I ain’t leaving.” She’d stopped crying by now, but there were little tracks of salty matted fur around her snout. She wasn’t even yelling anymore. She was somewhere between devastated and furious, and all of that energy was being directed into hatred for me, “You’re going to take these hideous bags that mother of yours gave me, and all that worthless shit of yours in them, and you’re going to leave MY house and never set foot in here again. I don’t care if you hafta sleep in that damned truck of yours, or in a different bed every night. Now get your stuff and get out!” She threw the largest bag she could at me. 
       There was nothing I could say to that. I started packing up the truck in defeat, ignoring the few neighbors standing outside staring, and drove off quickly, still crying the whole time. For the second time in my life, the sun didn’t set on my ass in Vidor.
        The lion sighs, rubbing his eyes as he leans back in his chair, wood creaking beneath him. “I did find out later, it was herpes. The doctor’d warned her of possible complications and Angela panicked. Still seven months later my son was born by caesarean, perfectly healthy. Not that Angela told me, it was only years later, when she filed for child support that I even learned it was a boy. Levon.”
        “As for me, I didn’t have anywhere to go. I didn’t really know anyone except for other folks in Vidor and the guys at work.” He chuckles, “Hell, I even considered calling that fox for a second, what was his name, Redd. Course that wouldn’t work, but it reminded me of who I did know out of town.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out an old wallet, and from that, a wad of paper, a receipt wrapped around a faded and worn matchbook for a long closed restaurant. He runs a finger pad over it, letting his claw extend just enough to brush the time softened surface, “Thank God I couldn’t let myself throw this away. It was the key to my new life.”