Dulles could hear the men working in the upstairs apartment. A half-hour passed before two of the men glided the small mattress down the steps and slid it into the van. A chair and table followed. A couple of men, each carrying a carton made their way past. Her personal effects, Dulles thought. There seemed to be pitiful-little for a woman who had reached middle-age. Where were her mementos? The photographs and letters? The stuffed animals from her childhood?
The men crowded back into the trucks and Dulles watched the procession back out his driveway. He didn’t move until the trucks had disappeared around the end of the street. Even then he took a long moment to finish his beer before pushing himself up out of the chair and making his way over to the stairs.
Her door was closed and locke
