Her hand came up, and I was afraid I was going to get sweaty-palmed again, but she only stroked her chin. ‘No. No, I don’t recall him ever talking...about a job, or anything like that.’ I didn’t expect that. ‘Then what was he proud of?’ I asked. She mirrored the same flabbergasted face right back at me. ‘Why, YOU, dear. Mr. Cooper was always telling us about YOU, and what kind of wonderful you were.’ By that point she was looking at me like maybe she was reevaluating Grandpa’s assessment. ‘He. As she got out of bed, her white nightie hanging down to her shins, she looked around. The small room she was renting contained little but a small bed, a bedside table and a modest wardrobe with broken handles for her to hang her clothes in. As she looked in the mirror on the door, her dark brown hair resting in waves across her shoulders, she realised she should have done this a long time ago. "No suits, no pervs, no rain, no work. Just me, the sun and the trees," she mumbled to herself. More

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