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!

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

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.