Obscurity. I felt it as I laid on the hotel bed and watched T.V. It was an old T.V. with pixels as big as my hand. The bedspread was also old, faded and washed hundreds of times. The pattern reminded me of the patterns of things from the late 50's, early 60's.

I'd lost my faith. I was like that priest on the run in Mexico, just mouthing the holy words that no longer had any meaning, everyone misinterpreting everything I said. I couldn't change, not where Craig was concerned.

I used to think that I could do anything. Maybe that comes from doing well in school, having concepts come effortlessly. Memorizing lists of words as easily as Mozart could run through the scales. Understanding the art of test taking, being able to figure out the answer even when I didn't know the answer. In school I could do no wrong. In my job I could do no wrong. It was just my personal life that had all the wrong, all the holes, all the fault and the blame laid directly at my feet.

I had thought sleep wouldn't come but I felt it overtaking me as I watched the mindless infomercials that I couldn't be bothered to change. The unfamiliar bed, the unfamiliar surroundings. From here on out everything would be unfamiliar. And that didn't sound bad at all.

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I woke up to the light rain hitting the hotel windows. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and sat up. I could still smell the smoke on my clothes. I stumbled toward the shower. Hotel showers were always a gamble. It was the pressure. You never knew where you stood.

This shower had pressure like a fire hose and I stood in its harsh spray, everything slightly blurry without my glasses. Craig. I couldn't get over how I had failed him. Him and Julia both.

Dressed in my smoky clothes, sipping weak hotel coffee, hiding behind a newspaper. I'd need new clothes. I'd need a new profession, one where I could come and go, one where I wouldn't need documents and proof of identity.

I left the hotel, squared up the bill. I had to get as far from here as I could. I thought maybe Vancouver would do. But in a day or two. For now I'd just lay low on the outskirts of Toronto, I'd buy some new clothes and drift around, seeing if I could come up with a plan. A plan to bury Albert and resurrect someone else.

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In the mall, wearing my new, more casual clothes, I walked past the music shop. No more suits for me. No more slicked back hair. Maybe I'd get rid of the glasses, wear contacts, pierce my ears and my nose. I no longer had any responsibilities and I was going to dress the part.

In the music shop the guitar caught my eye. I had dabbled with the guitar when I was in college, had one hanging around the house for the longest time. I picked it up and strummed a few chords. I liked the way it sounded. It wasn't an expensive guitar. Not at all. I bought it.

At the new hotel I played the guitar in my room. I'd need to learn more. I'd need to learn all the techniques. I'd study it like I studied for the medical boards. Studying was something I knew, something I could do. It was soothing, almost.

For now, the couple of songs I knew ringing out in the hotel room, the T.V. on but muted, the light fading from the sky, for now this was just fine.