"Don't forget it." Then Sumter strode away.
Morrow grinned shakily. He was certainly getting what he deserved!
At home, an idea was rapidly taking on form and dimension in his mind. He set up his drafting board, collected his inks, and worked doggedly through the night, etching out diagrams that showed—theoretically, at least—how his idea would work.
At midnight, he would show up at Switzer's Cafe to walk Gwyn home.
The nights were cool and pleasant, with deep shadows along the tree-lined streets and the street lights filtering through the treetops, dappling the silent fronts of the houses. They strolled along, slowly, their arms around each other, Gwyn's body pressed close to his.
"I like a small town," Gwyn murmured softly, one night. "'Specially at night—so peaceful, so cozy."
"I like the dark," Morrow said.
"Why?"
"I don't know. It changes things. It's a different world."