Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. I wish nothing at all from them. . 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. But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. When things are at the worst, they'll mend. The late afternoon, en effet.
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