Blake kept watching the mural as Cass talked about seeing the town.  He could swear it was slowly disappearing, or maybe it was all in his head.  He was still listening, though.  He’d made a point to listen to his wife when she spoke.  He peeled his eyes from the mural and focused entirely on her.  He hated that he had to consciously remind himself not to drift away.  Kicking the habit wasn't easy.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Find any book clubs?”</span>he asked her lightly.  He really did want her to find that sense of community, especially since he couldn't and wouldn't.  His 'friends' were his tools; still packed in a few boxes, to someday find a new home in his garage.  His community was the work he did, and the only thing of his own he could really take pride in.<span style="color: #FF8000">"Speaking of, honey, how soon until I get some new reading material?"</span>And then appeared his signature lopsided smile.  He loved reading her work.  He was proud to say his wife was quite fantastic at what she did.  He just wished there was some way to help her with her migraines so she could write more.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">"Heh, I'd pay <span style="font-style: italic">you</span> to take some thoughts,"</span>he joked, a little darkly.  Blake set the tea mug in the sink and rinsed it briefly before depositing it in the dish machine.<span style="color: #FF8000">"I think I'd actually like to get out of this house for a while.  Least until tomorrow.  Anywhere in mind?"</span>