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March 4, 2007
In his dreams, Lorinda would smile, seeing him as a dashing investigator in cuffed pants and tinted bifocal glasses. Sometimes she would speak, a sultry and low, “Hello, Howard,” with her lips flush to his ear. But she didn’t have to speak. He would talk and her features made her reply. They were well matched and he believed them to be joined through telepathy. In his dreams, a hawk flying overhead told him about their love. The hawk one time perched on his hand, screeching. This dream, Howard would envision again and again while waiting. And his waiting was great.