He ran then. He ran long and hard trying to forget the pain and anger on his mother’s face and the curses of the military man who took her from him....He was afraid and so young. He wandered his native land for months before coming to rest at this sad reminder. He knew he was somewhere in Scotland, but it resembled nothing he had ever seen before. So, he quit running. He quit caring. He almost quit living. What would be the point to my death? Just one more body decaying on the motorway with an. Instead I'd have a Mercedesconvertible; white with red leather interior. I'd have blond hair, blueeyes and a skirt riding up my thighs. But here I was, David driving thisCivic wearing Sam's Club clothing. Even my no name sneakers told thestory of my sorry ass.Arriving home I lumbered out of the dinged up Civic and walked to myfront door. The door was the only outward sign of another me. In anondescript neighborhood of homes I had painted the door a glossy shadebetween watermelon and plum. It. More

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