Every night I would walk up the stairs hoping the same thing but weeks went by and I did not see her. Every time I took out the garbage or ran to and ...rom the little grocery, I glanced at her door. The name on her mailbox said "C. Johnston;" Hell, I didn't even know her name.I checked in the old lady Fogherty (that Mrs. Fogherty to us young folk) downstairs and she talked to her almost every day. I pumped her for information on my neighbor but she wouldn't give up anything, but for one mere. .. Carmine Robertson looked at the rain that fell steadily down her window. The lights were low, the candles flickered in the back ground, their glimmer reflected in the mirror by her bed. She sat on the window seat, the cushion underneath worn and tattered, but still comfortable. Carmine, however was not. Her fingers trailed the paths of the rain as it splattered to and fro, the beating rhythm filled her senses and she pressed her forehead against the cold glass.He was very late.Deep inside. More

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