3. The beep of her phone woke her. It was Erica. She had called to be sure Yvonne was coming over. Erica also told her not to bring anything. ‘If on...y she knew I am dying to see her.’ Erica had sounded cold and impassioned on the phone. She looked at the time, it was 8 AM. Ian was preparing breakfast. She walked into the kitchen. She didn’t seem to care about his efforts, she was thinking about her friend. She couldn’t wait for time to fly. She had often wondered why time seemed to drag when. She usually carried a small leather equipment bag that definitely wasn't found in Macy's bargain basement. She looked Hispanic, but on the few occasions when I could overhear her she spoke with a well bred American accent with no discernible regional color. Her voice was soft and musical, a little on the breathy side, and she had a precise, gracious way of speaking.Now and then I would glance at her; she was hard to miss, with her big brown almond eyes, fluttery lashes, a cheerful, rounded. More

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