On the corner of Main Street and Taft was a little restaurant that boasted of the best meat loaf in town.  Amanda had to agree, though after the first few bites she found she had no appetite.  The waitress boxed it up for her while she paid the bill.  On the way home she detoured down Shoreline Drive to the old inn the librarian had mentioned. The sign announced its name as The Old Inn, and she smiled ruefully.  There were advantages to living in a rural town.  You didn’t have to think up fancy names.

Calvin, the innkeeper, showed her a room and gave her the key. “Only one other lodger right now,” he said laconically. “He’s on the other end.  You’ll have plenty of quiet tonight, Ma’am.”  Thanking him quietly, Amanda took the key and let him know she would be back later.  Then she headed for home, just around the corner.  It struck her that it wouldn’t be much of a walk through the woods to get here from her house, and remembered the librarian’s story of the two lovers running here.  Maybe she’d ask Calvin about them when she went back tonight.

The constable’s car was in the driveway, and she parked next to it and looked around.  “Here I am,” he called from the side yard.  “Come look at this.”  Amanda followed him to the back patio where the porch swing sat.  A small pile of cigarette butts lay to the right of the swing, maybe six or seven of them.  Jeez, she thought.  How long had he sat here?  Suddenly she started shaking, and her knees felt weak.  Good grief, was she going to faint?

“Easy there, now.” Fred moved quickly and caught her around the waist, pushing her to the swing and sitting her down.  “Put your head down, now, and breathe easy.  You’re all right.  Things just get very real for you, did they?”

“The cigarettes…,” nodded Amanda.  “They were just paintings before, somehow.”

Fred squatted down next to her in the grass, still holding her hands in his.  “Well, get a handle on it, young lady.  I’ve got more to show you than that.  Give me your keys, and I’ll go in and get you some water.”