If it was important to Amelia, it was important to me. Amelia bugged me daily asking if I’d finished and wanting to look at what I’d written. Howe...er, her constant pestering wasn’t curiosity. She was very serious about it. I refused to show her my draft, which only made her more curious, so I took to locking the draft in the desk drawer.But, on an early Thursday afternoon, as Amelia played the piano, I finished the lyrics to my satisfaction, and took them to her.“Here ya go,” I said, handing it. As he walked down the street, he waved to some kids playing soccer in the street. They kicked the ball to him, which he kicked into their goal. This was a usual routine. He continued down the street with a smile.He was wearing a shirt with a picture of Joe Satriani on in, he had bought at a concert a few nights ago. His hands were in the pockets of his loose jeans. As he walked by the basketball courts at the park, he saw Kat up by the front office. He smiled and ran up to her. "Hey, babe." He. More

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