Schmidt from across the street. When I walked out to pick up the mail, she asked me, with eyebrows arched, who I was.I told her. I explained that Gran...dad was off on a trip, and I was house-sitting for the duration. It helped, I think, that I bore at least a vague resemblance to the old man who lived there.She bought my story. Mrs. Schmidt, a young married woman in her mid-30s, couldn't help but betray a mild interest in me, similar to that displayed by the young waitresses at the cafe.What a. "I don't know." Buffy buried her face in Faith's blanket again, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. "What all do you remember?" she asked."Dead Mayor. No big worm demon. Met a guy. Riley. Initiative. Dead hybrid. Screaming. You loved me. Rip Van Winkle. Twelve months. Nightmares," Faith managed to sum up."It's all true. Except for the "I loved you" bit. I still love you. Never stopped." Stop," Faith said, closing her eyes. "You don't get to love me. You had that chance before Finch. Not. It was certainly faster, but far more effort had gone into making the King Air a luxury ride. The fact that I was now very close to having my private pilot's license had something to do with my perspective, I'm sure."Welcome to California," I said to Cole as I shook his hand. As we loaded their things into the van, I let Cole know that he had a patient to see tomorrow, but he would be seeing him at Grandma And Grandpa Carson's, so he was not going to have to make quite the house call I had. Leaving them where they lay, she attacked her drawers next.Shirts, rejected one after another, went flying out of the drawers. Tracey finally settled on a white T-shirt with a pink heart on it. The word "mom" was written inside of it. The shirt had been a mothers day present from April years ago. Even at the time, it had been a bit small, but after several washings, it had shrunk to the point that Tracey couldn't wear it anymore.She couldn't reason out why she wouldn't have worn it now that it.
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