I could feel the weight of the ages in his gaze like some vast weight pressing down on me, as if just being this close made it hard to breathe. Peter looked at the pictures, eyes flicking from one horrible image to another. The other one was just medium height, medium brown hair cut short, not too dark, not too light, not too anything. I had the same feeling I'd had when I stepped off the plane in Albuquerque--desolate.
He scanned the crowd again. Though I doubted it. I am too tired for this shit, I said. So I prompted him, Edward, I mean it.
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