He had already relocked the gate, turning back to his car, when he saw the cardboard box. He stopped. It was the packaging from, apparently, eggs, the...blue writing boasting that the box contained the freshest local product to be found in the area, from happy well adjusted chickens. It was obviously from some local supermarket. Just as obvious, it wasn't something that had just blown randomly here. It was closed, probably full of ... something. Not eggs. He was sure of that.Tom's eyes again. She smiled wistfully into the phone, ignoring the annoying threat of tears now stinging her eyes. He sounded just the same. Maybe they could do this, be friends. Or at least keep in touch. It had been almost six months, after all. Though it could have been six years – more like sixty – and it would still feel like yesterday. She could still feel the pain of saying goodbye to him on the curb in front of her friends’ apartment, of watching him get into the RV and drive away. Of those first. More

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