“No need for apologies. If you knew such thing would happen, you would have probably put on ballet shoes.” “Of course,” she said, giggling. ...��Are you scared?” “The worst is behind us, I suppose. I feel strange though, due to the adrenaline maybe. “It’s great to be alive. Are you in pain?” “My ankle is a bit stiff, and it started aching a little,” she said. “You? Did I stab you badly?” “No, just a cut.” I tried to change the subject. “I think we are in the basement. It’s time to call for. Finally, she announced a closing sale for the next weekend. On those two days she sold most of the books to old customers, then finally, the residue to another bookstore as a pennies on the dollar, take all, lot. Her rare books were put into a secure footlocker and delivered to a security storage firm - by the New Susan. There was nothing left in the building that she cared about - except for the three toys downstairs. Now, she effectively disappeared from view. She never shopped in her. Over the next six years, Jim and/or I would cruise past that house now and then. The shitty Chevelle never moved from its resting place beside the garage. The tattered vinyl top got more tattered and the faded red paint got even more faded. It was on its way to deteriorating back to its baser elements in May 1984 when my family made the mistake of moving to Delaware. I don’t know about Jim, but I feel a bit bad about it. We hadn’t intended to tear up his car so badly. However, I feel the moron. ‘ ‘Cole, the French got humiliated over there in their vain effort to subjugate an indigenous people that refused to be subjugated. The same will happen to us if we don’t pull out.’ ‘Ellen, you know where trying to appease Hitler got the British. If we don’t do something about—’ ‘Please, Cole, Ho Chi Minh is no Hitler. Granted, he’s a committed communist. But he’s no threat to us.’ ‘He’s taking his cues from Moscow, Ellen, and those guys in the Kremlin ARE a threat to us.’ Ellen didn’t buy.