I ran into a nearby gift shop and bought some tonics. Passing by someone's doorstep, out of courtesy, it was always polite to pay a visit. It would be embarrassing to go empty-handed.
"Why did you buy so much?" Lucy asked.
"For your mom to nourish her body," I replied.
I smiled, then drove into an alley, turning seven or eight corners to an old building. There was a yard in front of the house, not small. Several large locust trees blocked most of the sun.
It was the dog days of summer, but I felt a hint of coolness; in horror novels, this was the gathering place for all kinds of eerie stories.
Following her up to the third floor, she pushed open the door and shouted, "Mom, I'm back!"
Immediately, a thin young man pushed a wheelchair over. "Sis, you're back!"
"Come in," she said to me. "This is my brother, Dennis!"
"Sis, who is he?" Dennis asked.
"He's William Maine, my former classmate."
