”“It’s eleven. Hardly early.”“Whoa, serious? Holy shit.” Then she shrugged. “That was a fun night, though.”“It was.”“Are you oka...?” she asked.I looked at her, wondering if I detected an apologetic tone. “I am.”She nodded and smiled humbly. “Just checking.”The food was welcome. We ate quietly, still waking up to the sound of the breeze in the trees and the splashing of the nearby creek.“Those girls forgot their chairs here,” Lara remarked, glancing at the vacant seats that ringed the gray ashes. It was discreet, anonymous and almost secret. To reinforce its anonymity, Virginia had, (with my permission,) removedthe door number and purchased a sign saying 'maintenance'. From theoutside, Virginia's three small windows could easily have been mistakenfor either of the apartments on each side especially as one of thewindows was the opaque glass belonging to her bathroom. You may be wondering what all this is about so I'll tell you. The upshotwas that after Virginia turned eighteen there. More

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