It didn't matter. He'd done what he'd done."You're a sick fuck Roland," he said, the self-loathing tone dripping off his voice.He turned on to 5th St ...nd anxiety gripped him. The realization yet again that he had no idea what he'd do when he got there was creeping in on him, and his fear was presenting itself as he gripped the wheel more tightly.All that were going through his mind were questions:5th and Gerald? That's not very specific.What if they had guns?What if they killed him before he. When he walked his shoulders were hunched forward with his eyes on the ground, occasionally looking up to see where he was going.You could set your watch on his journey to and from employment, taking the same seat position on the train every day. He wore the same colour and style suit, carrying a brief case that carried nothing but his lunch box. The contents of the lunch box had every item enclosed in a wrapper and the fruit packed to prevent damage by movement. The lunch box was always packed. More

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