The man was, putting it kindly, a well-worn person. His face sported along scar that ran from brow to chin around the outside of his left eyeand seeme... to bunch as it crossed the wrinkles on his forehead. Hishair was jet black, cut short and greased until it seemed to be asingle black piece glued to his head. His eyes were blue and while theyweren't unkind neither were they as warm and friendly as Sam hadanticipated.He sat and drank deeply from his mug of coffee and very soon could feelhimself. .. reasonable. “No!” I pouted, knowing it was ridiculous and immature, but I couldn’t help it.The cheeky bastard smiled, trying and failing to cover his twitching lips with one hand. “Sierra ... your brother—”“He doesn’t see me as his sister – he sends people to spy on me and endangers my husband! – so why should I have to jump when he commands?”He wrapped one, muscular arm around me and pulled me, stiff and resisting, against him. “Okay. Forget that. You’re right. He doesn’t have the right to. David did his best to keep from yelling at the man and impatiently looked around. Suddenly, he spied the circular stand of condoms and wondered why they always seemed to put those things near the checkouts."Oh come on!" he breathed as the elderly man put his hand back into his pocket to search for a few more pennies. "Just give the cashier a couple of dollars, for Christ sakes!" In order to keep from yelling it out, David thought about what happened at home that evening. He thought about how. It was a few days later when I received the email, sent to 15 of us. We had a date and time. This was going to happen. Good work Greg. I made flight plans and booked a hotel in the city a short subway ride to the old neighborhood. I didn't see an email address that was certain to be Carol's. I really didn't know her story over the past 40 years. Was she married? Kids? I figured I'd just wait until the memorial. She'd remember who I was, of course, but would she remember me like I remembered.
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