It happens every time we speak. Every time my wandered in her direction. I shall call her now. And even as I dial, I fantasized about what she m...ght be doing. Maybe she was doing what I was doing when I thought of her. I see her sitting by the phone, the receiver cradled in her neck. The neck I loved to nibble. And as we talk, I can see her casually brush the hair from her forehead. She smiles when she talks. Most of the time, when she talked, I only pick up a word or two. I am. With the knowledge of when I was still fresh in my mind, it was probably time to stop and really think about things. In order to spend some time thinking it would be best if I could avoid running into anyone who knew me. The chances of doing so were slim — with my father at work and my brother, after he dragged himself out of bed, lazing around the house — but stranger things had happened. Like being dumped thirty-seven years into the past. Trolling through my memories of being this age the. More

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