Go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat as the shampoo bottles say.I barely remember her name most days. Her memory is like a photo in someone else's house... Blond hair, blue eyes smiling up at me. But like those photos, I don't know her. I've never met her.The final papers came in the mail four years ago. I signed them and put them in an envelope with too many stamps. Not an absurd number. Maybe four. I stuffed the envelope in one of those big blue mailboxes so it the post office wouldn't lose. My battery is dying so I’m going to have to get going soon,’ she exclaimed. ‘I know. Are you ok?’ he asked again for the hundredth time. ‘I will be. I just need some time to work it all out. I know I’m better off without him. Thanks for being there,’ she said shyly. ‘Hey as corny as it sounds, that’s what friends are for. Take care Ana,’ he said with feeling. ‘Thank you Ari. Goodnight,’ she said as she hung up the phone. Moving slowly around her room trying to locate the charger, she realized. She grabbed another bag and I followed her through the garage, into the kitchen. As we entered the kitchen, Bob emerged from his study. “Hey,” Bob called out to announce his presence. “Hey,” I replied, setting the grocery bag on the counter. Betty disappeared back out to the SUV as I hung back to talk with Bob. Bob took note of my prolonged stare as Betty disappeared through the washer-dryer room and into the garage. “You should go for it,” Bob remarked. “I don’t know,” I replied. I stepped. He had calmed down and carefully followed the speed limit. He was frustrated with the urge to get home as quickly as he could; the speed limits he had to follow seemed to be lower and slower than he could remember. Finally he pulled into his driveway, shut off the car, and ran into the house. ***Mr. Aims was driving through the center of town on his way to the O'Hare's as a police car drove up along side and the policeman inside motioned him over to the side of the road. The policeman informed.
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