Fabrik,” she said tentatively. “You were in my office the other day, about the contract?” “Sure. I mean, yes…yes, I was”, I answered, wond...ring where this was leading to. “I know you are busy during the day and so am I for that matter, but a question arose regarding the contract and I was wondering if we could meet for a few minutes.” There was a short pause, I was trying to digest what she was getting at. “Say about 7:30? I live at the Windsor Apartments. Do you know where they are?” Friday. Back again, the key was just our lovely daughter. When she poked her head around the corner of the dining room I thought it was you briefly. Kaitlin, nineteen years old and so much like you. She peeked in at me with that sweet triangular smile–the same as yours–but then her open palm pressed against her forehead and her eyes squeezed shut. She peered at the table–set for you and I–candles lit and lots of red hearts I cut out of some construction paper I found in the basement. Tears almost. More

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