" she glowered atme.Turning without waiting for an answer from me she left the room. I heardfemale voices coming from the door, some I recognized some...I didn't..As my wife led them into the room I saw her friends from theneighborhood and I wondered how I could ever face them again. I also sawat least one woman I had met that she worked with. I didn't know theothers I sat there in my soaked white panties, white garter belt, whitestockings and my favorite white bra with the little embroidered. She wondered if death could be any worse than the emptiness she felt now.During a visit home to Atlanta just last month she was pacing the house like a caged animal when for some reason decided she should clean the attic. There she had discovered, tucked away in a corner, a military issue metal foot locker. It had "Sgt. James A. Anderson USMC" stenciled on it. Inside were some neatly folded uniforms smelling of cedar, a number of photographs of a much younger James, and some small boxes with. More

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