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. If only to say goodbye. “Come in. He was not a sailor. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. She glanced into his face. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. Stanley. ‘En effet, it is for this that I was enquiring of this man if he has pen and paper. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid.
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