The fourteen year old boy lived in almost constant fear of his father's drunken rages. The taped bridge and wired on earpiece of his glasses bore mute...testimony to past encounters with his sire's fists and feet.He almost regretted that he'd kept running away from foster care, until they'd washed their hands of him, and sent him back to his dad's tender loving care. But, even the old man was better than the Hell of Child Welfare. He'd heard that kids were treated better in reform school, than. The stranger had noticed her. Of that, she was certain. But he hadn’t gotten up to come and seek her out. Was he expecting her to come to him?If he was, then he might have a long wait. Maybe he felt he was just too comfortable to move right at the moment. Or maybe he was more interested in the ghostly sphere of light in the middle of that big lake. Or, maybe he just didn’t care. The people he’d come to find had either left or died. Maybe he was past caring who he found if that someone wasn’t. More

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