A half-mile away, we slowed down and were slapping hands and talking smack, so impressed with ourselves.

The distant thump of the front door. Gone. She didn’t even go to the window to watch him walk away. / And I cannot let you in. / What kind of a woman falls for a grieving man? / Badbye.

Your parcel has arrived. / Ah, 100 percent!

At this time there happened to be a traveling skeptic in Edinburg, who was determined not to enter a church, or pay the least deference to the religious habits of the God-fearing Edinburgers.