It doesn’t take him long to traverse the short distance between his and Jake’s house. The wet grass is cold on his bare feet and he hopes no one is up at this late night hour. All he’s wearing is a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His mind is on auto-pilot; he feels there is something he must do and he doesn’t want to question himself.
Jake is still up, he assumes. The light from his house look yellow and warm, welcoming. For a long while, Gregory stands rooted at the foot of his front porch steps. Then, he breathes in deeply and mounts the stairs and taps gently on the door. He hopes that perhaps Jake is asleep or that he’s out, leaving his lights on for a time when he will return. And, paradoxically, he hopes the exact opposite. But Jake answers quickly. Like Gregory, he is clad only in a pair
