53 - Kathleen
I was driving back, the car full of niceties from the grocery back in Fallsworth, imagining how I would reward my “volunteers” for their labor. The smell of fresh muffins and pastries filled the Chevy, the road between Fallsworth and Safe Harbor had been as smooth as the road conditions warranted, a few bumps here and there but nothing to worry about. I treated me to some good-ol’ classical jazz, the kind Bryan compromised when he wanted to listen with me.
The protest march had been a success, drawing two or three hundred persons, not a crowd as impressive as the ones in Washington, DC, but enough to get attention from journalists. All in all, I was in a fairly good mood when I turned into Safe Harbor Main Street. Even the boat-shaped mall looked merry to me.
As I was abou
