. . . . Gerald Larry Kensington . . . . . . .
I couldn't help the feeling inside me after receiving that call from Tiffany. She agreed to take care of Larry. I offered to go pick her up and looked forward to doing that.
At 4:32 p.m, I was pulling up into her driveway when I spotted her at the foot of her doorsteps. She's busy, her cheeks burning red as she appears to have been laughing for a long time. I'm only seeing the side of her face as she looked up at someone whom she was seriously talking and laughing with. My eyes moved to her front to meet the same strand of hair I recognized immediately.
It was that same guy from the grocery store who'd been propped up against her desk talking to her, saying stuff that made her laugh.
I shifted in my seat as I watched them, my car moving c
