I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was.I opened the door. "...rs. Morrison?"She glared at me and nodded."Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?" I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room.She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run. Boston, Atlanta, Denver, San Diego. Big enough, vibrant enough, universities, economically viable.I would have to visit each city in person; I wasn’t about to startle Sabbath over the phone. Looking at the map, I decided to fly to Boston, then down to Atlanta. Then, if necessary, zip back to Denver and on to San Diego. In a selfish, immature way, I was rooting for San Diego. Sun and sand and surf. And my new bikini. Midnight blue.Instead, I ended up flying to the closest of the four cities to. More

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