Jackson stared out the window of his New York apartment high above the bustling city. The buildings were aglow with late-nighters, reminding him he hadn't slept. He preferred the quiet of Kerrick. And every corner donned Christmas cheer, reminding him of decorating the Trumble mansion with Ava. He set his hands on the window frame and leaned into them.
Everything reminded him of Ava.
He had sat at the conference table across from the producers and legal department two weeks ago, pen poised in his hand and contract renewal before him. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't sign. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had no plan. For once, no place to go.