God's creatures cry themselves to sleep-Hannibal-The Governor
A drab day passed by outside the rain caressed glass of his Bentley’s windows. Relocating often proved both tedious and unsettling when no one knew quite who you were. Perhaps this sort of thing was better for his own mind when there had been the slightest bit of pressure raining down towards him. Will Graham was away in prison and the FBI had investigated Lecter thoroughly enough for him to be cleared, even if there were suspicious eyes hovering over the idea. He left Baltimore soon after, uprooting his practice and heading towards the South where the heat grew thicker and the night’s became something of a ceremonial song almost by ritual.
Heading towards the smaller towns he watched the world that seemed entirely foreign. He was neither runaway or fugitive, neither belonging or misplaced. He was the darkness the crept through the core of his own soul and he felt it crawl up thick and tough through him. He was lost for the words that failed him when someone looked straight into his eyes. He wasn’t entirely above these people with old money running through their veins but he was in a word, different from them. His own legacy would travel far and wide from this moment once the truth was known and that in itself was beguiling.
Parking his car outside a single door store the engine turned off with the turn of the key. The rain whispered down the wind shield and the day looked both bleak and glaringly bright around him. He took in the looks of the passer bys, no one drove and dressed the way he did. He belonged back within the walls of his home that was newly purchased but everything was so empty and unfurnished, not in anyway containing the elegance of the way he wished to live. Someone had given him the address to this store, said that there were items in there that looked both vintage and modern in the most elegant and graceful of ways.
Smoothing away the drops of rain from the material of his coat he pulled open the door and slipped inside, eyes sweeping the furniture aisles and the fabrics that played out their makeup beneath the white light. He stood there, waiting for assistance. His eyes caught sight of a man near the back of the store. Tall, seemingly a kind of charmer, the kind of man the South was proud of. Steps took him towards him as eyes swept over him. “Are you Phillip Blake?”
Shouldn't have left the way he did but some things just couldn't be helped. Wasn't entirely his fault anyway. She always said the things that didn't need to be said. Did she think she was the only one going through the every day in slow motion? Each day he came closer, she pulled away. And he couldn't step up to be the man she expected him to be. That was it, too many damned expectations. They each had their own ideas of what they wanted; they were never fulfilled. Like the sand in an hourglass, time went on slowly. It was almost painful to endure. He was restless and wanted more, needed more, expected more. Nobody could possibly understand him. Hell, he couldn't understand it himself. That was his explanation to her before he left for work. Of course she didn't buy it. How couldn't he know what he was feeling, she asked him. How couldn't he know what he wanted? But he knew. Some things just can't be helped. Working here in this place was an easy way to make ends meet. He'd planned on leaving but didn't have much of a choice. A wife and kid isn't easy to support but he managed the best way he could. It was that determination that saw him through. He applied it to the mundane and every day, telling himself that something bigger would eventually open itself up for him. For a man of his ambition, it was bound to happen. Problem with that though was it hadn't opened up quite yet. He was stuck in motion at this damned place. Didn't his wife see that? Always wanting more, that was his problem. Never satisfied with what he had. And it wasn't because he couldn't stand working. No, not that, not laziness or inevitable situations. He knew he could make the most of it, he knew he could find a way to climb to the top. But where would he start... ? That was what dragged on in his mind. He felt deprived of what he really could do. He was ambitious but everything else got in the way of that. Even his wife. And that wasn't a thought he felt ashamed to admit to himself. Maybe she saw that -- but did that matter anymore? A sound at the front roused him from his thoughts and he stood up from behind the table he was fixing, catching sight of a man from where he stood in the back. Another customer, obviously. Philip was glad for the distraction. Sure as hell got pretty damned boring in the back all by himself. He walked forward, out of the back room and standing behind the counter where a register was beside a stack of papers and business cards. "I am." Wasn't altogether strange that he knew his name but given that this man didn't seem like he was from around here sparked his interest. "Who's askin'?"
