Please…dolla,’ chants a crowd of 8 to 10 dust encrusted pocket pickers, their ages between 3 and 9. Olongapo bustles with activity similar to that...of ants scampering for survival when their hill is disturbed. Streets lined with dirty shop windows display wicker picnic baskets with embroidered linens in red checks, blue plaids, green calicos, and white with lace ruffles. Wooden bowls, platters, beer kegs, and figures of eagles and bears appear to be everywhere. Tattoo parlors advertise posters. ”“I’ll be the judge of that Joe. Just finish the story.”“No, it’s stupid. You know everything already. Knowing the details will just make matters worse and I want us to get pass this,” he fired back.“That’s the thing. I don’t think we will get pass this.”I let him know the same thing I told Kimmie earlier that we may have rushed back into things and it probably would be best for me to be on my own for a while.“This is bullshit, man! We apologized numerous times,” he snapped back at me. . I reached into the basket for the first two jars to wash, but I nearly dropped them because I was still staring at Mrs. K. With a huge effort, I forced myself to look away and put the jars into the sink. They’d been cleaned before mom stowed them in the basement, so I only had to wipe away some dust. I set them upside down to dry and fetched two more. Mrs. K was quietly working on the strawberries, and I didn’t talk either while I rinsed the jars. I relaxed a bit. It was nice to work next to. “Kind of like Gérard.”Amélie poked her. “Stop that.”“Stop what?” asked Gérard as he joined the women. “What are you talking about?”“Nothing,” answered Sandrine. “Feel the stone, Gérard.”Amélie was silent. Gérard noticed, but didn’t say anything. He put his hand on the stone for a second and jerked it back. “It’s hot!”Amélie put her hand next to the spot Gérard had touched. Instead of pulling back she pressed her entire palm against. She felt the ridges and bumps in the stone impress themselves.