When I looked at him, there was a tear in his eye."Three times," one of the girls said. "First time was them Germans. They killed Ma. That was in Nove...ber. Then a pack of Redcoats, dragoons. And, and two more today. Pa hid us from them. We ain't got nothing left." Jus' our clothes," said the other girl, putting her hand on her sister's shoulder.I remembered the ring and pulled it from my pocket. I laid it carefully on the table in front of the girls. "This yours?" I asked."Oh," the one on the. " See, buddy? That's how `you need to write."---Chris and I had been living together for about three years now. We had almost nothing in common, except for our love of writing. The only reason I hadn't killed him off months ago is because he pays for half of the rent for our studio apartment.He went to Rutger's, and was trying to get a degree in Comparative Lit, while I dumped money into the black hole that was my writing career. Our apartment had become a jungle of unfinished novels and. More

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