She glanced at me, then at the picture, then back at me. This was another thing that Sheila had mentioned. Francine got quiet when she was thinking, a...d she was very good at thinking. The silence stretched as her thoughts went somewhere. I mimed coffee to the waitress but otherwise bided my time.When the waitress came over with the coffee, Francine rejoined the world. I suspected caffeine would do the trick. Without glancing at the waitress, she pushed her cup for a refill. Instead of watching. She thought of the man she adored, loved him with a passion, knew she had to see him. Slowly she rose and buttoned a woolen cloak around her simple shift. With trembling fingers, she lit her oil lamp. ‘Shrouded by the night And by the secret stair I quickly fled The veil concealed my eyes While all within lay quiet as the dead’ Feet bare, she padded down the stone stairs of her parents’ little house. Easing the wooden door open, she inhaled the clean night air, feet tickled by the dew-laden. More

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