Troy led Dietrich out to the garage once all the horse stalls were cleaned, constantly glancing around to make sure Shauna wasn't watching. He made sure each door was closed, then turned the lights on, revealing boxes crookedly placed on top of each other, dusty vehicle parts, hay and feed that had been tracked in over the years, and other assorted junk that Troy couldn't remember the use for. "It's a bit of a mess, but I know where everything is."

Dietrich gave Troy a look, and stood near the middle of the garage. "You would be able to find things quicker if you organized this place."

Troy would never admit to anyone that the garage needed to be cleaned and organized. He started heading toward the back of the garage, where the mess was slightly worse. Sawdust and wood shavings littered the floor. Only the workbench, which had partly-made wood furniture for a rifle set up on it, was somewhat clean.

"I take it this is your wedding present for Shauna?" Dietrich asked.

"Yep. Custom furniture for an M1903 Springfield, her personal hunting rifle. She likes mine, but I think it'll be more special for her to have her own. It's not much to look at now. One of my ranch hands has been helping me out with this for the last few months."

"Gunsmith?"

"Yeah. His dad runs a smithing and repair shop in Douglas. He was in the Marines during the war. Wants to help expand his dad's business and take on more employees, so he's been doing work for me for a little extra cash. Good guy, hard worker. You'll get to meet him later this week when he comes by. Actually—" Troy glanced at Dietrich, "I might have to put you in charge of making sure Shauna doesn't see what we're doing, because she and Westall work the same day."

"Well, if she is working, you should not have to worry about her, right?"

"Theoretically."

"'Theoretically.' Okay." Dietrich nodded. "I will do my best, then."

"Thanks." Troy looked over his unfinished work. "I hope I can get this finished before we get married. We haven't run into any issues yet—"

"And now you have probably jinxed it."

"Dietrich?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up. Don't start reading my mind. Shauna already does that."

"Moffitt and Vanora do that," Dietrich said with a smirk. "I was told that is a sign that you are truly close, when you can finish each other's thoughts."

"Well, you put up with my crap so many times that it doesn't surprise me you can get a sense of what I'm thinking, and I don't like it."

"That just makes me want to do it more."

Troy sighed and shook his head. "I can trust you not to tell Shauna?"

"Of course you can. You trusted me not to tell her about the ring, right?"

"Yes."

"So, I will say nothing about the rifle. Promise."

"Okay. She hasn't been using the goodies she's making for you as bribes?"

Dietrich gave Troy a look. "I already know she made the cinnamon rolls as a bribe. I called her out on it yesterday."

"Did she get mad at you?"

"No. Bit disappointed, but not angry."

"One week. She can wait one week. That's another thing—I don't want the jeweler to call while I'm not in the house. I'm trusting you to take that call for me."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"How do you expect me to talk to the jeweler if Shauna is in the house?"

"You're smart. You can come up with something creative."

Dietrich shrugged. "Alright."

Troy didn't like the lack of confidence in Dietrich's voice, but it wouldn't be the first time Dietrich made himself seem unassuming while he was actually scheming inside.

"We still have several hours before we go to this bar you were telling me about," Dietrich said. "Would it kill you to clean the garage in that time?"

"No, but that's not on my to-do list for the day."

"What is on your to-do list, then?"

"Fence inspection, checking my livestock for injuries or disease, making sure everyone's accounted for. If you want to come, you can. You good on a horse?"

"Not particularly. I have not ridden in years."

"If you're looking for the best instruction in horseback riding, go talk to Moffitt. He's much better at that than me. Less likely to get frustrated."

"I thought you told me my first day here that you are able to teach someone how to ride a horse."

"Compared to teaching them how to speak Greek, absolutely, but… if you really want someone who knows what they're doing, go to Moffitt."

"I highly doubt you are an incompetent rider, Troy."

"That doesn't mean I can teach people."

Dietrich sighed. "Fine. I will be at the house if you need me."

Troy watched Dietrich leave the garage, and found himself trying to imagine doing a cattle drive with Dietrich. It was somewhat amusing at first, but gradually turned serious the longer Troy thought about it. He did do a drive with Moffitt and Snowstripe the year after the war ended, and again with Moffitt on Castner when the lanky Englishman visited to help out with training her. That was fun, Troy thought. I really should consider asking Moffitt to come do drives every year. He loves it. Maybe Dietrich would. Who knows?

As he left the garage, Troy noticed Dietrich was sitting on the porch with a cigarette, looking deep in thought. Part of Troy wanted to go over and talk to him, just to see if there was anything bothering him. He also felt it was important to keep showing trust to Dietrich, and not watch him all the time. He couldn't help worrying a little. I'm always going to worry. It's hard to tell what Dietrich's thinking most of the time. He's been doing good so far, but Hitch and Tully told me that he had moments where he just suddenly closed himself off. That's what I'm worried about. Feels like a time bomb waiting to go off.

Troy could see Shauna off in the distance on Castner looking over the herd of cattle presently in the nearest pasture. He got Alverstone from the horses' pasture and led the Appaloosa gelding into the barn to get tacked up. "I just can't help worrying about Dietrich," Troy said, half to himself and half to the horse. "Been worried about him since he surrendered and let us bring him to Belgium. I know I told Tully and Hitch that everything seems like it's going in the right direction, but that fear's always going to be there." Troy looked in Alverstone's left eye while adjusting his bridle, and sighed. He had always rolled his eyes at Moffitt for having one-sided conversations with Snowstripe, but Troy really wasn't one to talk, as that was something he used to do with Rainflower.

He gave Alverstone's tack one last check before climbing in the horse's saddle, and heading out to the fence surrounding his property. It was pretty easy to see in most areas that the fence was in good condition, but Troy would still get up close and make sure nothing was starting to rot or be taken over by termites. He was cautious when getting close to the fence bordering the woods. He had seen everything from bears to wolves to lynxes getting curious about the fence and what lay on the other side, and was perfectly willing to give predators a chance to move on. Troy was less willing to shoot bears since the bear was one of the animals mentioned in Dietrich's prophecy, but wouldn't hesitate if one of them decided to get through the fence.

So far, the fence by the woods was free of animals looking to take his horses or cattle.

He found a few areas that looked like they needed touching up, and once he returned Alverstone to the horse barn, Troy grabbed a notepad from the tack room and quickly wrote down what sections needed repairs and what those repairs were. He headed back to the house, finding Dietrich wasn't on the porch anymore. Okay, maybe he's inside. Troy entered the house, not seeing Dietrich in the living room or the kitchen. The bathroom was unoccupied, as was the guest bedroom. "Dietrich!" Troy called.

No response.

"Dietrich! Where are you, buddy?" Troy looked in his office, then the basement. Still no sign of the skinny German.

Concern flooded Troy. He checked every inch of the house, then went outside. He spotted Shauna returning to the horse barn with Castner, and dashed over to her. "Sweetheart, have you seen Dietrich?"

"No. Why?" Shauna asked.

"He's disappeared."

"Where did you last see him?"

"On the porch."

"He's not in the house?"

"Nope."

"Well, I doubt he's run off, Sam. Did you check the sheds and garage?"

"Not yet. I'll go do that." Troy took off running to the garage first. He couldn't imagine why Dietrich would want to be in there. He didn't want to assume the worst, but a small part of him was. His breath quickened as he sprinted toward the garage. Before he opened the side door, Troy whispered a prayer that he wasn't going to find what he was fearing. He threw open the door, and saw many of the boxes that were originally all over the place were now neatly organized and moved out of the way.

Troy turned when he heard the sound of a broom, and saw Dietrich sweeping the sawdust and wood shavings into a large pile near the workbench. Relief crashed over Troy. "There you are," he breathed. "I was looking all over for you."

"Why?" Dietrich asked.

"'Why?'" Troy stared at him in shock. "Because when I left to go check the fence, you were sitting on the porch, and then I come back to find you were gone, nowhere to be found."

"So?"

"I—" Troy stopped himself, wondering if he should really say what was on his mind. He tried to correct himself. "I… didn't want you getting lost."

"Well, that is a load of… I believe the word is 'crap.'" Dietrich set the broom against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "You are not a good liar, Troy, and I can see from your expression that you were worried about me beyond just me getting lost like a helpless child."

Troy sighed. "Alright, you got me there. I don't want to be pushy or overbearing, but—"

"You want me to tell you next time I go off somewhere you are not expecting me to be."

"Yes. That." Troy glared at him. "We've been over this. Don't read my mind."

"Too late." Dietrich smirked. "For the record, I came in here because the fact that this place looks like a bomb exploded in it was driving me mad, so I decided to do the cleaning for you."

"I would've gotten around to it. Eventually."

"Right."

Another sigh. Troy rubbed his face. "Fine, Dietrich, are you happy now?"

"Almost. Once I get the sawdust and wood shavings cleaned out, this will be done, and then I will be happy."

"Okay." Troy watched Dietrich work for a moment before turning to leave the garage. As he approached the house, Shauna came jogging up to him.

"Did you find Hans?" she asked.

"Yeah. He's cleaning out the garage," Troy said.

"Well, good! Someone ought to. It's a disaster in there."

"And it's my disaster. I said I would clean it."

"You said you would clean it several months ago, and it was never done, Sam."

"Because I have other things to do, sweetheart."

Shauna looked like she wanted to continue that argument, but ultimately chose not to. "Are you stopping for lunch?"

"May as well," Troy sighed. "You?"

"I will. Do you know if Hans had anything?"

"No."

Shauna opened the refrigerator. "I wouldn't be surprised if he had more cinnamon rolls for lunch. I made sixteen yesterday and there are only three left. How many did you have?"

"Three. One with yesterday's lunch, one for dessert, and the third for breakfast today."

"I only had one yesterday."

"So Dietrich had the other nine." Troy smirked. "They are pretty good, sweetheart."

"Do you have any idea how long Hans is staying?"

"No. Why?"

"Because I'll have to make something else once we run out of the cinnamon rolls." Shauna looked at Troy. "What do you think? What have I made that you really enjoy?"

"I enjoy everything you make."

"Come on, Sam, you can be specific."

"Okay, okay. Your chocolate peanut butter fudge. Remember making that last spring for Easter? You shared it with me and the other ranch hands?"

"I do remember. You liked that? I threw it together last minute."

"I did."

"I thought it was a little too gritty."

"It still tasted good, sweetheart. I'm sure Dietrich will love it."

Shauna still looked uncertain, prompting Troy to hug her from behind, squeezing her tightly. "I love you," he said. "Besides, you're not putting it together last minute. You have plenty of time."

"Oh, you're just trying to be nice," Shauna replied.

"No, I'm being honest."

Shauna sighed, and turned around in Troy's arms to hug him back and kiss him. "Okay. We should have lunch and get back to work."

"You're one to talk, Miss 'I left half the barn dirty so I had an excuse to come see you while you were feeding the horses later.'"

"That's not true." Shauna was turning bright red.

"Oh, really? You were looking at me the whole time, and it was a really hot day so I didn't have my shirt on—"

"That was a bonus."

"Right. I know you." Troy's grin widened. Part of him was tempted to ask Shauna to come with him and Dietrich to the bar later, but decided not to. He got to see Shauna almost daily, whereas whenever Dietrich's trip ended, he had no idea when he would next see the former captain. He would make the most of it.

It was difficult to not be a little annoyed at how messy the garage was when Dietrich entered it for the first time. He mulled over cleaning it himself the whole time he listened to Troy talk about his present for Shauna, until it became a nagging little thought that refused to stay in the back of his mind. When Troy left to inspect the fence, Dietrich went to the porch to have his cigarette, hoping he would think of something else to do.

Not a chance. That thought wouldn't leave him alone. So, when Dietrich finished his cigarette, he grabbed a couple of cinnamon rolls for lunch, and headed back to the garage. Upon stepping inside, he pondered whether or not such a task was even achievable. It had to be—for him. After all, he convinced Troy to listen to logic and reason. Cleaning Troy's garage would be easy.

Dietrich looked over the mess with his hands on his hips, trying to figure out where to start. Finding gloves would be a good place to start, he thought. He saw a pair of work gloves on a table, and they were just as dusty as the rest of the garage. His arachnophobia kicked in when he noticed a pretty big spiderweb up near the lefthand side of the garage door. He couldn't see the spider that made it, and couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, he probed the inside of the gloves with a thin piece of wood to make sure nothing had taken up residence in them. When he was confident the gloves were spider-free, he put them on, and looked first at the stacks of cardboard boxes that were strewn about the garage floor.

"'I know where everything is.' Right. Of course you do. None of these are even labeled, you dummkopf," Dietrich grumbled. "How did you manage to beat me countless times over when you cannot organize anything to save your life? What the hell is even in these?" Dietrich tried picking up one of the boxes, then stopped when he realized how heavy it was. The last thing he wanted to do was tear up his back again. It was bad enough having Tully and Hitch fussing over him last year about injuring his back. Troy would be considerably worse.

Dietrich opened all the boxes on the floor, and groaned when he saw the collections of junk inside. "Okay." He sat down in front of them, prayed for strength and patience, and tried to figure out all of the boxes' contents. His confusion came to a head when he found a brick in one of them, as he wondered just why Troy had a single brick, and why it was in a cardboard box. "No, no, no, Hans, you will hurt yourself trying to figure that out," Dietrich muttered.

Most if not all of the boxes were filled with things that had no relation to each other. Dietrich didn't want to imagine Troy's thought process—or lack thereof—when actually packing these boxes. He stared at the piles of junk scattered before him, and tried finding ways to actually organize them. Eventually, he started sorting, dividing items up by use or function. Soon, only a couple of boxes were used for the most random of random things—including the brick.

His next phase was organizing the filled boxes by weight, and setting them aside as neatly as possible. Already, the front of the garage felt so much cleaner and less chaotic. Dietrich was quite proud of himself.

He moved on to the back of the garage, where Troy's workbench was. Everything related to firearms was a lot more organized, but there was a section of tools and other junk that needed the same treatment. Dietrich picked up a hammer and several screwdrivers to move them aside, and uncovered a book with a blank leather cover, caked in sawdust. He assumed it was some kind of manual, but despite how plain it looked, there was still something about it that suggested it wasn't. He brushed the layer of sawdust away, and picked up the book. He looked over it, then opened it.

The book was a photo album. Dietrich glanced around, wondering if this was something he should be looking through. He didn't know of anyone who kept their photo albums in their garages. Then again, Troy wasn't just "anyone." Dietrich let his curiosity get the better of him, and sat on the floor with the album in his lap to look through it.

The first few pictures were of who Dietrich assumed were Troy's grandparents. Several of them were dated from before they came to Wyoming. The next few showed Troy's parents, and Dietrich couldn't help but feel a bitter and nasty feeling turning over in his stomach when looking at Troy's mother. She didn't look spiteful or cruel in these pictures. That did not happen until later, Dietrich thought.

The bitter feeling faded when Dietrich turned the page to see photographs of Troy as a baby. He tried to resist a grin, but it came over him anyway. "You were so little and quite cute, actually," Dietrich said. He sighed. "And then you grew up, and became a menace." He paused, a dull ache gripping his chest. "And suffered immensely."

The ache was swiftly replaced by laughter when Dietrich turned the page to see a very displeased-looking ten-year-old Troy in a stiff suit for an Easter church service. Part of him felt sorry for Troy, as Dietrich could sympathize with having been stuffed in a suit for Christmas and Easter services that offered no sense of comfort. It was simply there to look nice. At the same time, Dietrich found Troy's expression hilarious, especially since that expression hadn't changed a bit in the 32 years since that picture was taken. He laughed until his sides hurt, and struggled to keep going. Tears were rolling down his face. "Okay… move on."

The next picture was even better. It looked to be a school photo, and Troy was glaring at the camera. Again, Dietrich felt sorry for him, but laughed until he was sore. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. When he finally calmed down and stopped laughing, he kept going.

The lightheartedness vanished when Dietrich looked at a photograph of Troy's father setting his young son in the saddle of a horse. Troy looked delighted, and his father looked proud. Dietrich began wondering if Troy hid this album on purpose. He turned the page, finding a picture of Troy with his mother, both smiling. Dietrich's heart ached. He believed Troy when he was told about how things used to be different, how things used to be happier, but now he was seeing it, in moments captured in time. He was seeing smiles and laughter and love. None of which were present now.

It was easy to look at the pictures of Troy's mother and feel angry. Angry that she caused Troy to suffer. Aunt Miriam's voice was in his head, though, telling him that there was very little to gain by feeling angry. After all, like Troy, his mother was someone who needed help, but it was clear from everything Troy told him that his mother was determined to live out her life as bitterly as possible. Dietrich couldn't fathom being so miserable that all he wanted to do was make others miserable. Even at his lowest point, he never wanted to hurt anyone, as he was concerned he already did so. He was convinced removing himself from the picture would be better for everyone.

Dietrich moved on to the next page. There were pictures from both of Troy's grandparents' funerals, and Dietrich could see in Troy's expression that even though the funerals were being shown as celebrations of his grandparents' lives, he wasn't doing any celebrating. The smile Troy wore was fake, and it hurt to see.

The same could be said for the pictures at his father's funeral. In those, Troy wasn't bothering to smile. He looked lost, like his mind was in another place entirely. Dietrich couldn't blame him. He quickly moved on, until he came to the very last photograph. The caption stated that it was David who took the picture, and it showed Troy sitting in a grassy area, a light-colored horse laying with him, its head rested on his shoulder. The horse was Rainflower, and the picture was taken a mere two days before Troy's father was killed.

Dietrich wasn't sure how to feel when he finally stood up and put the photo album back where he found it. He continued working on cleaning up the garage, but his actions were less meticulous, as his mind was elsewhere.

He wasn't surprised when Troy came in a little while later acting somewhat upset over the fact that Dietrich had disappeared without a word. Part of Dietrich wanted to say something about the photo album, but decided against it as he was worried Troy would be angry that he had gone through something so personal. Dietrich finished his work in the garage, pulled his gloves off, and headed back to the house to wash up. He decided it would best to wait until it was just him and Troy to talk about what he found. The house was empty when he entered, and looked out the kitchen window to see Troy and Shauna walking hand-in-hand to the horse pasture.

The day was slowly winding down, and Dietrich wasn't fully looking forward to going to the bar with Troy. Not because he didn't want to spend time with Troy, but because going to bars wasn't something he did. As he put his sawdust-covered clothes in the laundry room, Dietrich paused loading the washing machine to look at the scars on his wrists. That was why he didn't want to go.

He could cover the left one with his watch. That gave him some comfort, but now he had to figure out how to cover the right one. It seemed like a silly thing to be anxious about, but that did nothing to make him less anxious. He didn't want complete strangers seeing his scars. I can keep my jacket on in the bar, he thought.

Dietrich tried not to fret about it while waiting for Troy and Shauna to come back from whatever they were doing. He paced the kitchen, trying to find something to distract himself. There was one cinnamon roll left, but he decided to leave it for someone else. He turned when the front door opened, and Troy entered with Shauna trailing him.

"Hey, Dietrich," Troy said. "I take it my garage is as clean as the day I built it?"

"I would not say your garage is that clean, but it is much better than it was this morning," Dietrich replied. "I must ask, though, why did you put a brick in one of those boxes?"

"A what?"

"You heard me. A brick. Like what your fireplace is made of."

Troy thought for a moment, then he looked like he finally had a realization. "Oh! That brick. Yeah, that was from when I built the fireplace. I had one extra brick, so I stored it away in the garage for in case I have another project that uses bricks."

"You have a lot of random junk, you know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"It was quite a challenge sorting it."

"Do you want a medal, then?"

"No."

"A cookie?"

Maybe. "No. A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Okay. Thank you for organizing my junk, Dietrich."

"You are welcome. Can it stay that way?"

Troy shrugged. "I can't make any promises there."

Dietrich heavily sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "Fine."

Shauna approached Dietrich when Troy disappeared to use the bathroom. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you cleaning the garage. I know I'm going to have to move some stuff in there when we get married and that place is a nightmare."

"Was." Dietrich smiled. "If you ever need someone to clean Troy's garage, do let me know."

"Thank you." Shauna gave him a hug. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"If you are offering."

Troy returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, and made a face upon catching the scent of brewing tea. "Did Moffitt make a surprise visit?"

"Oh, stop." Shauna nudged him. "Hans and I are having tea if you want any."

"No, thank you, sweetheart. Can't stand tea."

"What do you drink when you are sick, then?" Dietrich asked.

"Anything that isn't tea."

"That is… very specific, Troy." Dietrich rubbed his face.

"I'm serious, though. Tea tastes like exactly what it is—boiled leaves."

"This is coming from the man who ate and enjoyed Hitch's Spam and powdered egg omelet in North Africa."

"Yeah. So?"

"Do you not see the hypocrisy?"

"There was no complaining about that omelet because it was still edible. No one got sick from it. It's food. You take what you get out there. It doesn't have to taste good."

Dietrich sighed. "But, to you, tea does not taste good. Tea is drinkable and actually quite good for you."

"It becomes a lot less appealing when that's all you smell first thing in the morning because Moffitt insists on having it."

"I would think a Spam and powdered egg omelet would be unappealing before it has even been made." Alright, what did you expect out of this conversation? You called him a garbage disposal for a reason. Dietrich smiled in an attempt to prevent himself from groaning out loud. "Troy, you are entirely uncivilized when it comes to your palette."

"I'm not uncivilized. I'm just more practical."

Shauna glanced at Dietrich while stirring her tea. "He did eat baking chocolate once."

A look of concern came over Dietrich's face. "As in unsweetened baking chocolate?"

"Yep. Just took a piece when my back was turned, and then I turn around to see him chewing on it with a weird look on his face. Does he spit it out like a normal person would? No. He swallowed it."

Dietrich struggled to come up with a response to that. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while saying, "Heaven's sake, Troy."

"I said the same thing."

"I thought you said you like that I'm not picky," Troy said.

"I like that you're not picky, but there's a difference between just not being picky and eating baking chocolate and crabapples."

Dietrich wasn't sure he wanted to know the crabapple story.

Troy quickly changed the topic. "Well, at least you can trust that I'll eat something normal tonight, because I'm taking Dietrich to Red Fisher in town for a couple of drinks and pretzels."

"Oh, that sounds fun," Shauna said. "Make sure he tries their New England clam chowder. Best clam chowder you'd ever have."

"We were served New England clam chowder a couple of times when I was a prisoner-of-war." Dietrich shook his head. "It… was not particularly good, which is a shame, because I had heard good things about this dish in general from some of the guards."

"You'll like this. It's very rich, creamy, and has the perfect balance of all its ingredients."

"Alright. If you insist, I will try it."

"Ask for garlic bread with it. Anything, really. Their whole menu's amazing."

"And there're plenty of options for drinks," Troy added.

"I take it this is a respectable establishment?" Dietrich asked. "It is not known for fights and the like?"

"They happen on occasion, but it's not often. We'll be fine. Just relax, enjoy yourself, don't worry about the bill. I'll take care of everything."

Dietrich nodded a little, trusting Troy to keep everything under control.

His mind turned back to the photo album in the garage after Shauna left and Troy was getting changed into cleaner clothes. Part of Dietrich wondered if it was really a good idea to be bringing up the photo album before they headed to the bar, as he didn't want to ruin Troy's mood. He stayed quiet when they got in the truck, weighing his options.

"You okay?" Troy asked before he started the truck.

"Perfectly fine. Why?" Dietrich replied.

"You're quiet."

"What else is new?"

"No, I mean… really quiet. Quieter than normal."

Dietrich sighed, knowing Troy would persist until he got answers. Well, you asked… "I found an old photo album of yours in the garage. It was under a layer of sawdust on a table near the workbench with Shauna's rifle."

Now Troy was quiet. He started pulling out of the driveway, not saying a word until they were on the road. "You look through it?"

"Yes."

Troy stayed focused on driving for a minute or two. "Weird, huh?"

"What?"

"Weird how some things can change for the worse, and then you look back and wonder what could've been done to keep things from collapsing in on themselves." Troy gave a sigh of his own. "Wonder what you could've done to keep things from collapsing."

"I doubt there was much you could have done." Dietrich looked at Troy, waiting for a response. "It was strange, seeing you and your family happy together."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with that damn album," Troy muttered. "I… want to get rid of it."

"Are you sure?"

"If it helps me move on. I know that album isn't complete, and never will be. My grandfather took most of the family pictures. A lot were in a larger album, and then there was the little one that I can't remember how I got. The bigger album is gone. I don't know what happened to it when the farm was sold, but I know I can't get it now. The pictures I have in the garage are all that's left."

Dietrich thought for a moment. "I would not get rid of it just yet. There may come a day when you heal and want to see those pictures again, especially those of your grandparents."

Troy didn't say anything for a little while. Dietrich began wondering if he suggested something a little too much for Troy at the moment.

"You… have a point. I won't get rid of it. Not yet," Troy said.

Dietrich looked at him in surprise. Somehow, lightning struck the same place twice that day. What could I possibly be saying that is convincing Troy to listen to me? Is this even the real Troy? He looked out the window as they entered the town of Douglas, and began to think of having a drink as a well-earned celebration now.