-- Sitting on the floor by the window with only part of my face in the window. Hell never come back.

-- Of course he will. Hell return, open the gate with one hand, look up and see your face in the window.

-- Hell never come back. Not now.

-- Hell come back. New lines on his meager face. Yet with head held high.

-- I was unforgivable.

-- I would not argue otherwise.

-- The black iron gate, difficult to open. Takes two hands. I can see it. Its closed.

-- Ive had hell with that gate. In winter, without gloves, yanking, late at night, turning my head to see who might be behind me --

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