“Sure.”
After eating f*******n frozen pizza—with everything on it—my evening consisted of trying to play at least through the first page of Moonlight Sonata without making mistakes. Aunt Jessica crocheted in the wing chair nearby, listening, and coaching me. After an hour, and tiring of our individual pursuits on the creative level, we migrated to the living room where we watched some mindless programs. Popcorn was popped for the occasion. My aunt drank white zinfandel, while I chose something low calorie, non-alcoholic in the bubbly waters category. Around eight-thirty, Weeks called my aunt and they spoke for a while. When she hung up she passed along the news that they"d found nothing wrong with Brianna"s car, but were still waiting on toxicology reports from the coroner. I couldn"t hel
