He never complained when she squeezed the toothpaste tube in the middle. Actually, what happened after Stafford’s execution was one of the great ironies of life. With each passing minute, she saw one dream after another disappear. His commitment lay with the city, not to any grandiose concept of its destiny but to the honorable task of doing better whatever limited assignment he was given.
Robert Whitley, the man she had once hoped to marry. At the most he’d have one more night with her. Barefoot, she went down the stairs, her feet moving about under the dried river rushes on the floor. There seemed to be explanations for everything.
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