Chapter 349 The Orphanage

• The old quarter hadn't changed much. Same cracked sidewalks. Same crooked lampposts. Same smell of fry oil and river water drifting off the docks two streets over.
• Tyler walked through it, hands in pockets, with every block something in his chest pulled tighter.
• He knew this route. He'd run it barefoot a hundred times. Left at the laundromat. Past the shuttered bakery where the old man used to hand out yesterday's bread to any kid who looked hungry enough.