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          In the dusk of a summer eve, gentle breeze coaxing the limbs and leaves of trees to sing a tender lullaby to a quiet neighborhood, Sarah placed the final piece of flatware into the cupboard, freshly washed after supper. She dried her hands and surveyed the space, allowing sharp exhalation from her nostrils along with a nod of satisfaction, derived from a job well done.

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          She stepped with purpose from the kitchen to the hall, lifting the needle from the record player which had kept her company during the washing up and ascending the stairs to the second floor. Her next task at hand was to bid goodnight to Todd, her son whom she had sent to prepare for bed after dinner. Sarah approached the door of Todd’s room, finding it ajar. This was not unusual as the lad was only six years of age, long before the propensity for privacy would instill in a young man. She spread her fingers apart, gently pressing the door open in case the young man had already fallen into slumber...

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