“When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. But this chap is good wine yet. . ” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. He smiled. They then took off their boots, and crept stealthily up stairs, treading upon the point of their toes so cautiously, that not a board creaked beneath their weight. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand.
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