Could it be her, really her? His face was to the first grey warnings of the sunrise, hers trapped n the shadows, it was impossible to make out who the...woman was. He asked again, ‘Laurie is that you?’ From where Laurie stood, though the man’s face was wrapped in a thick woolen scarf, she could tell who it was. She started to repeat his name but the wind chased her voice back down her throat. She was only able to release another scratchy wheeze, ‘Peter.’ He knew it was her all right. Laurie. His tone suggested disgust with me. I hadalways been a "good little boy" and rarely gave her any cause for concernthat I'd smoke or invite other kids in. It was true, I had few friends then, having spent much of the summeravoiding the outdoors, chances to play ball or go swimming; I was adisaster in all of those, so retreated to my attic hideout to avoid thoseconfrontations.Now, with mom and my brother gone, I could explore those attic garmentbags for mom's stuff. The car was no sooner out of. More

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