And you don’t feel much like riding, you just wish the trip was through

Washington, DC, at my brother?s apartment. My brother Chris is half a head taller than me, a square-jawed, gently spoken military type. He’s deep in biochemistry exams and this is his finals week, a bad time for unexpected visitors. I called him this morning from California and asked whether he’d put me up for the evening. Aunt Beverly died two nights ago in Orlando and my father asked me to come down. The drive to central Virginia, and the corresponding Christmas vacation with my mother, will have to be delayed. My brother has been good enough to take me and the wife in on no notice. Tonight I need to figure out how to get to Orlando.

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