‘We come here every now and then to freshen up Ethan’s memory.’ ‘Well, I’m not exactly sure which parts are real and which ones are imagined...’ said Ethan, ‘but I think I’ve managed to reconstruct most of it.’ ‘How does that work?’ asked Thomas. ‘I suppose you start with what you have by studying the surroundings and the rest is based on suggestion,’ answered his cousin. ‘Really? That should be interesting.’ Thomas walked towards the edge of the pond. ‘How deep is it here anyway?’ Abby came up. I remember one time in particular. There was this nice looking young girl about sixteen or seventeen named Hilda Lewis who had felt the call of nature and hormones. She had gotten herself knocked up and her parents had forced the young father of the child to marry her. He was a little older than she, about twenty, I suppose, and worked in the local cotton mill to support them.As luck would have it, they moved into a small house that was on my paper route. They lived on a winding dirt road about. More

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