NARRATIVE of WARD COURIER

February, 2011

RUSKIN, NY

It was a late winter weeknight and I was restless enough to go walking solo in Ruskin village and drop in again on the pub we all called "The Tom." It was eleven. It was nearly two months after I had last seen Lys, and I was still shaken by the sight of her in her wounded condition. I did not think I would see her that night, and I didn't want to. My journal and I took a seat at the bar.

I was thinking ...