She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. . “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare.
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