Jack In The Box
I asked although I knew what his answer was going to be.
"My death,"
*~*~*
As informed by Ken, I received a text message ten minutes later with an address.
House number zero-seven-two on Boulder Street north of Garden Avenue.
Jack reached for his shirt and pulled it down over his chest. I watched as he zipped up his jeans and ran a hand through his thick hair.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Ken's location," He answered. Fatigue was so clear in his eyes. Jack looked like he was in need of a warm blanket, a hot cup of cocoa and a good night's rest, neither of which he was going to get anytime soon with the way things had transpired.