Maybe a bit too much of alcohol and dreaming about his past, Bob walked in this self-service laundromat. He remembered Jill but he was not remembering...her right now, who also must have forgotten her loving boyfriend, he thought. The laundry room in his apartment building was flooded and somehow both the machines were out of service, which brought Bob in here. This section of the Laundromat was almost dark and before his eyes could get adjusted to see in the dim light, he ran into someone coming. I called Scott to let him know I’d meet him at the post gate so we could hit the road to San Francisco. He picked me up around six and we headed north to the City by the Bay.I was born and raised in suburban New England. I had done some traveling, but for the most part, all I knew were bitter cold winters and hot, muggy summers. Fall was usually either: a) a reprieve from the heat of the summer before winter rolled in, or b) a bit of a chill before the real cold weather arrived. It was all. More

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