139

A crack had appeared in the ceiling over her work area. Lara only saw it because the damn browser had frozen up again and she was waiting for it to restart. The implications of a crack in the ceiling were far worse than having to wait for a computer program to restart, but, in this case, it wiped the annoyance from Lara's brow and replaced it with curiosity.

138

A building sits, dark and empty. Brick. Three-storied. Industrial, with large, rolling metal doors in the back. The front was faced with stone and had a half-circle, four-stair landing up to an entrance covered by sheets of weathered plywood. Beneath the plywood, protected, was a huge double door, half wood and half window. It had been welcoming. It had been a pleasure to work there. People, mostly men but a few women, had worked there for entire careers. Most, men and women, were dead now. Leaves from trees that had broken through cobbled driveways skittered weakly in the silent corners. The building was waiting.

137

Sherlock Holmes knew that all he ever saw or heard or read or knew was still in his brain; he only had to access it. Sara Ferguson knew this, too, because she could time travel.

Sara could look at an old picture, perhaps the one where she was nine years old, standing in the kitchen, laughing with her older cousin and pointing. Sara was wearing the blue velour shorts she loved and didn't want to stop wearing even though they were getting too short for her. Her t-shirt was from Heath Road Elementary and she had begged her mom for it at the Heath Road Bazaar two years prior. Her hair was up in a bun and loose strands were tickling her face, driving her mad when she had a quiet moment to feel them. Her socks were dirty white with blue bands around the tops, specially chosen to wear with her blue shorts even though the left sock had a hole under the ball of her foot. She was helping her cousin Bette make a salad and had offered to clean the carrots with the potato peeler into the side of the sink with the garbage disposal. There was going to be steak and she could smell it cooking on the grill as they worked. Bette trimmed radishes so the white insides showed and she balanced them in her eyes and said, "I'm Little Orphan Annie!" Sara's mom grabbed the instant camera from the low cupboard under her father's drawer and made Bette and Sara pose again. Bette had repeated her line, but added, "Did you know that radishes are good for retinas?" which had made Sara laugh again.

Sara blinked and was sitting in her cell, the last living member of her family.

136

Jaycee wondered what happened to her brother. It was a passing thought after she saw a dark-haired man on the street who was wearing an expensive-looking coat and scarf. She saw him in profile and, for a moment, thought it actually was her brother. "Kevin..." formed in her mouth and she nearly called out when the man turned and the illusion was broken, but the idea was planted that her brother was, perhaps, still alive.

135

The wind makes no noise; the trees and stones give voice to the wind. High in the broad pine, the wind played the branches and needles. The music crescendoed, suddenly rested for a beat and began the slow refrain. The wind played a different song on the old oak that included the percussion of snaps and creaks. The wind on stones plays melody, racing up and down the scale.

134

The quiet little boy with the strawberry blond hair stared seriously out of most of his pictures. Here he was, hours after his usual bedtime, standing in pajamas and robe, holding his telescope and preparing to view the rings of Saturn, the spot on Jupiter and the ice caps of Mars as they hung in a rare triangle in the night sky. The little boy's mother took his picture and smiled her subdued smile; the same smile that appeared on her son's face a short while later when Saturn came into focus. His mother made hot cocoa for when he was done and his head was filled with the universe.

133

It was Merelyn's goal to wake every morning with a positive thought, but as he unglued his right eye's lids with sheer force of will on this, the first morning after his New Year's goal-setting, he could only think how the cat's paws must have tracked in litter to his duvet, and how the smell of cat poop would ruin his taste for breakfast.

132

Shakur experienced great glee when pulling one over on the unsuspecting populace. When his false stories, sounding so very authoritative, were picked up by "real" news sources and used as sources and passed from reporter to citizen to coffee shop argument, Shakur would smile his secret smile and feel as if he controlled the world.

131

Observation is the first step towards enlightenment, but you'll never do it correctly. You will observe only through the filter of your body's feelings and your mind's memories. Your experience colors your perceptions and there is nothing upon which you may look that isn't referenced from your own viewpoint.

So forget enlightenment. I'd recommend you try for inner peace, but that is also impossible given the turbulence of the mind.

130

The house was so much darker after they had stuffed the windows with crumpled newspaper, but it certainly kept it warmer. The front door, a leaky thing even when there had been heat, took more papers than Gerta had thought it would, but she managed it. The ill-fitting storm door was locked and then screwed shut for protection, then filled with papers pressed in place with cut cardboard as she filled it. The inside door locked tight and duct taped around the edges. But it was so cold that winter. So very cold. The old lady upstairs died. So many people did, but that was the closest death to Gerta. They buried her in the snow out back, but Gerta doubted she was still out there. Scavengers ate even the roughest of meat.

129

I keep dreaming about my old house. I wander around, the way it used to be and the way it never was, or could be. I'm looking for something lost; something I desperately want before the house is chained shut and "NO TRESPASSING" means I can't get in again. It is the house I thought would always be there. I thought my parents would always be there, watching television in the family room. Perhaps my dad would be in the basement working. Perhaps my mom would actually be in the kitchen, getting ready to call Pizza Hut. My room, always the way I left it.

They say you can never go home again, and now I know what it means. My home wasn't my home for a long time because of changes, and I prefer to remember it the way it was when I was young. When that particular shade of green was all the rage. When the appliances were golden. When the curtains were still hung and my doll house was still powered and my dog was still alive. I can go back home again in my mind. It's where my real home still sits, waiting for me.

128

The moon was a dim smudge behind the vaporous clouds. It ducked behind rooftops and peeked between bare, spindly branches. A bitter wind gusted and bit, sickened but did not die.

127

It's been two years since I've seen another human. I've given up hope that I ever will. My bones will rot in this squishy soil or be eaten by god-knows-what. I hope I'll kill whatever it is. I hope my decomposing body makes a spot that won't grow these putrid plants again. I think it will be my only vengeance on this planet that has taken so much from me.

126

The stones tasted like cold earth-heart, and she liked it. When one stone, held on her tongue, pressing against the roof of her mouth, would warm to body temperature, she would replace it with another, fresh and cool. Gala's bare feet savored the feel of dirt and leaves and twigs and stones. She stopped often to lie full-out on the forest floor, face down, arms and legs splayed.

125

I will start at the start and begin at the beginning, if it is what you will, and I know it is since you were always a stickler for first things first.

I first saw your mother when she was just a girl, though I didn't know she would become your mother. My first impression was that she was a brat. A dirty brat with skinny legs and ratty hair that hung over her crabby face. It's a good thing I didn't think that way forever, or you'd never have been born!

Shara was unruly and wherever she went, she stirred up trouble. This continued for her whole life. It is probably why you have rebelled by being so straight-laced, but I digress. The beginning begins with your mother nearly dying, and your father being a hero.