chapter  11
18 Pages

Coming Home

I don’t notice the three red steps or the porch. Registered only peripherally, the steps pass under my feet and are forgotten before I enter Tony’s living room. I don’t notice the colour of the porch or the small carefully constructed bed of plants to the west of the steps and the porch. By the end of my meeting with Tony on that balmy June afternoon, my mind was filled with those steps and porch.