As with most things, emotional edges fray with wear. Murphy kept his
personal mending to himself, but epiphanies were coming between his self-
serving nature and his circumstances. The specter of maturity was beginning
to get in the way of avoidance, and there seemed to be nothing he could do
to stop it. He could no longer ignore the person he was becoming, his
conscious part in the scheme of things, the fact that he was now the very
pawn he despised.
Those thoughts lay in his head as he shared a cheap motel bed with
a fresh WAC. What was her name?