Before she could take the photo, though, we heard a sound. A door squeaked open and then shut. Calm footsteps echoed through the auditorium.“Who’s...that?” I whispered, carefully but hurriedly adjusting my pants.“Cleaning crew, probably. They’re a bit early, I guess.”“Now what?”“Let’s hang for a sec,” Heather said softly. She ever so quietly readied the camera and framed a shot.A few minutes went by, during which we heard the rattle of tools and running water. The person below whistled a short. Bareback with some idea they were clean $40. Her days varied, from one to a half-dozen like today.Ever since her husband died five years ago in a fight over his still, she’d been on her own. Before that she’d been a dependable, if not faithful, wife. In his circles the latter was very difficult. Get a load of that good shine on and anybody with enough stiffness to make her feel good, could. That was just a follow up of school days anyway so her husband didn’t think much of it.She remembered. More

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