He looked back at the Tar Pits, but the man and woman had vanished. Priest and petitioner? Or two ghosts from a past he had not yet met?
“I’ll never tell,” he said.
They got in the car, Maryam holding the roses on her lap. She had never looked more beautiful.
“What day is it?” he said as he turned east onto Sixth Street.
“Election Day,” she said.
And then they were gone, into the anonymity of the city, to join the millions of other ghosts, born and unborn, all of them waiting their moment, however brief, in the sun.
FB2 document info
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Document creation date: 20.5.2013
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Shock Warning d-3 Page 33
