A year ago he used the weights to keep his body in shape so he could perform his job and stay on his toes. Now he used the weights as physical therapy so he could regain mobility and just a little bit of the strength he had lost.
It was the only thing he was ever going to get back.
AT 3:00 A.M., Sam was staring up at his ceiling.
Anna. What a piece of work she was. A real piece of work. Sam was fully aware of what he was doing. This obsessing was something he had been battling since the accident. In the deadening never-ending hours of free time, Sam would become fixated on something. Like woodworking. Like long-distance running. Like the stewardess on his flight to Los Angeles last month. Like how, if he had been just a little bit quicker in that hallway, if he had turned right instead of left when the wall came down on him, he wouldn’t be where he was now. Anna had joined the list of obsessions.
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