“Just come into the kitchen please,” I responded.I heard the shuffling of socks on carpet as my parents worked their way to the kitchen.“What is...this about, Michael,” my father said firmly, clearly aggravated.“… About Laura,” I started, before my dad cut me off.“This conversation is over,” he said, and stormed from the room.“Dad!” I yelled after him, but received no response.Unable to stand my parents anymore, I ran up to my room and began packing. While I was rustling things around looking for. She had a pitcher of margaritas on the coffee table. Smiling, she patted a spot next to her and said, ?Sit down my hero.? I sat and we drank our second glass of nectar. She told me that she’d been here about a year. She got a transfer from her old post office. It seemed that bunch of good old boys didn’t take to women delivering mail. After two years of being hassled, she saw an opening here and took it. ?You must walk a million miles on your job Sara.? ?Nearly, at. More

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