“Oh, thank you, sir…if it wasn’t for our mutual love, this life would be nothing more than a spectre of hell,” she postulated. “I agree, my ...ove…now, how about some dinner?” I offered. “Yes Sir!” she answered, as she finished buckling her black heels, and I adjusted my tie. As we walked to the elevator, I reach into my pocket and turned the dial slightly on the remote control. Her body jumped, slightly breaking her stride, but she said nothing. The elevator wasn’t crowded, and no one seemed to. I look at it and smile. Mom had said she had dodged a bullet with that. I knock. Mom is in sweat pants, socks, and a beige T-shirt when she opens the door. It’s a look I know well. She looks like a comfortable piece of furniture. She smiles seeing it’s me. ‘Come on in. Don’t look at the mess, I’m still unpacking.’ She steps around a stack of empty liquor boxes. I remember the dozens of trips to the liquor stores around us to get them. I see her handwritten descriptions of what the boxes. More

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