He draped the scarf around his neck and couldn’t help smiling at the extraordinary softness of it against his skin.

“It looks fine on you. I think red is your color,” Pastor Willis said.

Red. The color of blood on his dead wife and daughter. Arrin’s smile vanished and he pulled the scarf off and put it back in the box.

Peter came to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some chores to finish.”

Arrin knew Peter was leaving him alone with Pastor Willis so the pastor could probe into his psyche and try to “help him”, and so he scowled at Peter.

Peter knew what the scowl was for, but he just smiled and left anyway.

Pastor Willis took Peter’s vacated chair. “So. How are you getting on?”