Chapter 77

It's been a little over sixteen weeks since Sean made the chilly streets and dark alleys of Moscow his home, his bed. His duffle bag, which diligently served as a pillow with what he wore excluded, had nothing more than four pairs of jeans, two tees and a hoodie against the night's blistering cold, his passport, a wallet with a few notes to sustain the little his stomach demanded for another four weeks or so, a cap to shield his face from lingering eyes and UV light, and a pocket knife for precautions. Safe to say the latter never saw the darkness of his duffle bag from the day he purchased it from a local store not too far from the alley he slept in that night. Another one of such assets was a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. The nicotine has helped him a ton lately more than ever before especially with his appetite.

Before leaving for the airport in the company of his brothers, he'd left some money he'd worked from Spring's dinner and gathered from debtors to his supportive father