” John replied.“That’s great! You’re outta here then.”“Yeah. I guess so.” John replied.Sandy hated to see John so glum. “So why you so...sad then?”“All I have known has been the Army. What am I suppose to do now?”“Enjoy retirement. See the world. Settle down with someone nice.” Sandy offered.“Not ready to retire. Seen the world, met new people and killed them. I tired settling down and the bitch was a cheater.” John retorted.Sandy was taken aback by John’s gruff response and just gave him an. Since that evening, no other place had offered Erik such fresh perspective, and it had been a wellspring of comfort through pivotal moments. In every weather and at any time of day, this little place on the edge of his town had become Erik’s eternal solace.Now, again, when his his world had become, in an instant, altogether too confusing, he had retreated here. In his heart he felt fear, but not like fear he had yet experienced. It was a fear that part of him yearned to embrace, that seemed to. The painting consisted of three blue dots formed along a vertical path and a jagged, dripping red slash that ran from the top right corner of the canvas to the lower left. It looked like someone had used a chainsaw to maim the frame and there were deep, serrated gouges along one side and uneven strips of wood ripped off all along the top. Executed in garish, highly saturated hues, the watercolor was one of several similar works that lined the gallery wall, each one sporting a similarly simple. What were they talking about? Besides me, I mean.And where was my dad? I figured he'd be home already, since it was getting past the afternoon and into the early evening. He went golfing every Saturday, out of the house by nine back by four usually. Not that I kept close track of his whereabouts, I didn't, but I'd been up and down so many times that day that anything out of the ordinary seemed suspicious. I kinda wanted to talk him, you know? Not about Mrs. Collins, that would be sorta.