He walked without a destination, like almost every night in the past few months. Not because he was lost. The opposite. He knew exactly where he was. He just did not want to be found. There is a difference. When you are lost, you look for an exit. When you do not want to be found, you are looking only for a little more time before the voices begin again. The boss’s. His mother’s. The friends who loved him in a suffocating way. His own head.