As if I was supposed to say that to make her feel better. ‘I’m dead serious Julie, and quite frankly I’m worried about myself too.’ Her eyes l...oked up to me, wondering where I was going with that last statement. ‘I’m not joining no frikkin’ bridge club, I’m not volunteering for squat…’ ‘Is Cora ever coming back?’ She cut me off. ‘No,’ I said with some finality to the word. I paused for a moment before I continued my thought, ‘I’m not going to fall into a depression and become a miserable old. " What went through Claire's mind was something else he really couldn'tdo without her...or at least without a woman. She felt her face get hot. He didn't notice. "And I wanted to apologize again for what happenedlast night. I really don't make a habit of groping strange women inbed." Claire remembered the feel of his hand on her breast. It had been along, long time since she'd felt that. Her face got hotter. She triedto dismiss the feeling. "Forget it. You probably don't make a habit of. "Have a nice taste of this." Sharon gave a little squeal as I fished out, um, my canoe. "How lovely!" she gushed. I flipped open the top and held it over. "Have a whiff." She bent her nose down to take in the bouquet, and then she sat bolt upright. "Dayum." It's funny," I said as I started packing the bowl. "I'm totally not a weed snob, it's just I happen to know a guy who gets some motherfucking righteous bud. Why don't you grab a couple more beers and toss another log on the fire. That plus. “I’ll just change here,“ I reasoned. So into the passenger side of the front seat I went. I wore my “beach day” clothes - cut-off jeans, my favorite t-shirt (a well-worn souvenir), and my cloth flip flops. As soon as I sat down, I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts and started pulling them down.As I leaned forward to step out of them, I noticed a man, maybe in his 50s, watching from the third floor window of one of the homes. We locked eyes, but he didn’t look away. Safely.