Eddie didn’t realize it himself, but the entire interior of the trailer, while neat and orderly, looked like somebody’s childhood room – close and personal and piercingly revealing of the mind or minds responsible for it. There were trophies from school achievements, movie posters Nyssa and Eddie had stolen from the store or which had been thrown out. There were band posters, childhood drawings, one or two knickknacks Nyssa had found in the road and couldn’t bear to part with and so nailed to the wood-paneled wall: A mix CD she’d never  played, a beaten up old baseball cap she had washed, a discarded U-lock for a bike.

There were no family heirlooms or photographs of any kind.

I once told a friend who read through my progress that Ian is who I was as a kid and Eddie is who I wish I had been.

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