Julia was a very attractive woman, about my age, who dressed smartly, who always had a smile for me when we crossed in the corridor or came together in a business meeting. I believed her to be happily married, but she had no kids. I knocked, then opened the door, and poked my head into her office. I was surprised and distressed to find her, with her head in her arms, slumped over her desk, crying her eyes out. Julia. What is wrong? Go away! I just want to die! I put my hands on her shoulders, wanting to comfort her. It cant be that bad! Would you like to tell me about it? Maybe I can help? She gave a big sob, then said, Im afraid to go home. OK. So why dont you let me take you to my favourite restaurant? We can talk about life the universe and everything. Maybe the world will seem less bleak after an excellent meal, a little wine, and some friendly company. Oh! I dont know. Normally I would love to have dinner with you, but tonight I would be such a wet blanket. Listen, I am not. Behind them, hot dogs boiled in one pot, while sauerkraut steamed in another. Off to the side he heard the staccato sound of a knife against a cutting board. His mother bustled into view and tipped the board over the pan, dropping chopped onion into it."It will be another twenty minutes or so before dinner is ready," Sandra said in a harried voice as she crossed the room. "You've got enough time to see to Cathy before we eat." She reached the counter and paused. "If you would, please."Richie stared at his mother. Her Aura was quiescent, no more than an inert cloak. He looked at the stove again. All his favorite foods were there, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation, though tempered with a bittersweet pang of memory.The last time he had enjoyed such a repast was when he was twelve. Two months prior, all evidence pointed to him having stolen another kid's lunch box, resulting in being grounded at the height of the baseball season. When it was finally proven the lunch box had been.
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