[Henry can't stare at the candle any more without his eyes hurting. He glances at Heather again before sitting back down with his box of cereal. He watches Harry write for a moment. He was sort of curious about what the man was writing.
Was it about him?]
The man who lived in my apartment before me was a journalist.
[action]
Was it about him?]
The man who lived in my apartment before me was a journalist.