There is a path near his house. On Thursday afternoons, when his parents are gone and the maids are busy with errands in town, he can sneak out and head down the path. It’s a grassy lane off the side of the house that someone must have used at some point, well before his family moved in. He always wonders whose footsteps were here before his. Was it a delivery lane? Was it a main entrance at some point? Or was it a back road meant to hide a secret romance? He may never know, but he loves the endless possibilities and opportunity for reflection. He loves his secret path.
