Getting into the car, I started the engine revving it a few times. Hitting the button for the window to go down, I shouted out so she can hear me. “... take the car to wash up boss!” Trying as much as I can to sound like someone from abroad, who speaks little English. Putting the car in first gear, I released the clutch while stepping on the accelerator; the wheels gave out a loud screech as I approached the end of the driveway. Just before turning, I looked at the rear mirror. Beauty was. . I-I can try calling you tomorrow, if you like?... maybe I ... well, maybe I will get a chance to write you another letter, if that's okay with you?" Myron asked. "Sure ... if you like?.." Becky replied, quickly exiting the gym. The wimpy Myron just watched her walking away, gingerly, as if she has sprained an ankle. The next four days were pretty much the same. Becky barely spoke to Myron for more than 5 minutes at a time. She was never available to go out and seemed to have less and less. More

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