NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER, Continued
March, 2010
BUFFALO, NY
The early afternoon was tame and typical of many in March on the Niagara Frontier: thin grey overhead and about fifty degrees. Neither heat, cold, wind, nor brilliance would distract from my thinking, and I had plenty of it to do.
I can't tell you whether my dominant emotion was fear or shock. My mind was working so fast in images and impressions that it takes a lot of words to describe my processing. I was only partly considering things with Lys. She just added to the confusion. I obsessed about what she had told me about those horrible little men people called "the Whistlers." Was nothing stable in life?
I was in the business district at Buffalo's downtown core, a zone of high buildings with famous architectural profiles a
