I stood almost robotically, my mind still filled with images of Mandy in motion. Her body was still lithe and beautiful; her dancing more skilled with...maturity. I wanted her again but knew it was not going to happen. As the applause faded and the performers left the stage after a final bow, I pulled my coat on to head out towards the chilly February night. “Excuse me, sir,” said a young woman in sweats who approached me in the lobby of the theatre, “Mr. Mitchell?” I looked her over, not sure. ’ In no time at all, I was dashing through the rain and down the street to Carrie’s house. She only lived four doors away, but it was raining hard enough that my clothes were soaked before I was out of my own yard. Carrie was waiting at the door with a towel for me. I was trying to dry myself as best as I could so I wouldn’t drip on her floor and she was watching me. She had a look on her face… I guess it was indecision, or maybe even concern about how I would react. I stopped toweling my hair. More

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