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But it didn’t matter because Hanson didn’t say anything. He blinked a couple of times and I felt even more embarrassed. He didn’t recognise me.�...�Alessia,” I said. “From William Barden Academy? Class of – what – ’07? We were in Mr Jones’ art class?”He blinked again and frowned at me.“Alessia. I knew. Alessia Willow. I remember,” He switched his cardboard cup to his left hand and pulled me in for a hug. He smelled like smoke and coffee. “How the hell are you anyway? Aside from almost killing. They’re looking at you.” I knew instantly that all these men were ogling and fantasizing about my wife. I felt irritated by all the attention, but I couldn’t ignore the enormous pride either. All these men were looking at my wife, MY wife. Damn was I a lucky man, I thought. Monica took a seat at the back corner of the open lounge. It had about a dozen red leather sofas pointing in all directions, with a few side tables and concrete planters mixed in. Half of the sofas were occupied with. More

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