By David T. Dowling

The story starts early morning a somewhat foggy mist hung drearily over the dewy grass. The early birds chirped claddlily, interrupted by low tone loons. Soon, the sun would break the mist's hold on the earth. A dragging sound crept slowly up the alleyway. Whisper quite but definitely distinctive. It was a mother possum returning home to her brood. Wearily she moved along the paved alleyway. Her evening spent searching for a new home was coming to a close. As she past close by, mother possum sniffed the morning air carefully. My drifting cigarette smoke lingered in her snout. Maybe she sensed danger! I sat quietly on the front porch of my Haunted House.

This morning seamed special to me. Maybe the appearance of mother possum made it so. I awaited sunrise this Sunday morning. My second shift job had my hours quite jumbled, and here on my day off I was repeating my work week habits. As first light neared the bird's began repeating their chirp's frantically, as if to tally the evening's count that all was well. Suddenly to my amiss, mother possum appeared, but now she carried ten or so babies on her back. Sometimes one or two would fall off and scurry to catch up with to troupe as she lumbered along nervously retracing her steps from the evening. She was relocating the brood, and danger was around every corner. Carefully, she crossed the street investigating ever bush for an overlooked hiding place. Mother possum was not going to chance just any hiding place. Hopefully her evening's work had found her a new home that she could raise the brood in, without the danger of being discovered. I curiously watched her make her way down the alley, till she disappeared. Wondering her outcome had reached my curiosity's peak. What would become of her and her merry brood? This thought drift's though my morning's awaking as the sun rose.

This was my fifth month as a resident of Laflin's Haunted House. I had settled here to fulfill the county's requirement of a suitable residence for Sunday visitation of my three year old daughter, Danielle. My knowledge of this property was somewhat vague but I had a desire to live here for sometime. My ex-neighbor Charlie lived here for nearly three years, finally sharing the upper flat with his mother. He complained constantly about the cramped living conditions.

Charlie was twenty-five and somewhat content with his third shift position at the foundry. Here he had found a home but still he was restless and longed to return to his youth. The divorce of his parent's had upset his childhood and left him aimlessly searching for inner stability. Charlie was the youngest of the family and sensitive to its demise. He had set out in search of his manhood and found a world out there quite insensitive to his peril.

I met Charlie at Main St. Arms, a rooming house situated behind a sprawling foundry. Its location suited his need to be with in walking distance of his job as third shift guard at the foundry. Rent a Cop was his favorite phrase for this temporary to permanent agency that contracted security for the foundry's main building. A small guardhouse adjoined the rear gate just inside the perimeter fence. Here the captain of the guards held his post.

Above his desk was a camera monitor viewing the side entrance for the employees. Just to his right was a paging speaker mike that he uses to command his group. Each guard carried a portable radio for communications. Along each guard's route were stations designated for time keeping. Each route had a set completion time and each guard was required to log in his time. In perspective it was quite relevant to be punctual on each route as monitoring of these logs proved the guard's reliability and reflected his perseverance. The evenings' records were the captains most cherished possession.

Each shift the logs were carefully gathered up and mailed to Santa Ana, California. Two weeks later the paychecks would arrive. The billing process was quite lengthy, but corporate headquarters required paper verification for insurance purposes. Realizing the importance of a speedy payroll, the Captain promptly completed his daily paperwork. His diligence and neat entries kept everyone quite content. Charlie especially appreciated his check on time. Rent and other necessities were required weekly. His checks just covered his expenses.

Living check to check had become a strain both mentally and physically. Charlie longed for the days when he could save money again!

Winter crept by ever so slowly at Main St. Arms Ltd. Charlie complained about the heat in his tiny room and was restless about his anticipated move. Weekly he searched the Sat. classified ads and dreamt of the day he would leave.

Spring came and so did Charlie's opportunity. A Saturday ad read roommate wanted. Maybe this was his chance at last. Charlie had never had a roommate before, but financially sharing expenses seemed his only escape. He called the prospect and was invited to see his future residence. Little did Charlie realize this was Laflin's Ghost House.

Nervously, Charlie awaited his ride. Unsuspecting the surprises ahead, he anxiously gazed about. Putt-putt the sound of the 750 Nitehawk as it came up the drive. Varoom it sounded then quite. Charlie was invited to board the motorcycle and see the apartment. Away they rode putt-varoom sput soon arriving at Laflin St. near Carroll college.

Charlie peered upwards at the spooky home. "Over here!" shouted his soon to be roommate, "Just up these stairs.". Away Charlie strode, first ducking at the entrance then stumbling on the steep stairs. "Through that door," shouted his new friend. Charlie reached for the doorknob and realized he would have to step back to let the door swing open. This maneuver almost sent him tumbling down the stairs. Kind of tight moaned Charlie. Straight up said his friend. Charlie's first step upwards lead to a collision between his head and the doorjamb. Watch your head Charlie whispered his roommate. Charlie managed the steep narrow stairs crouched over and landed face first at the top of the stairs. Picking himself up he wondered if he would fit in this tiny apartment. Charlie's lanky 6' 8" frame and size 16 shoes gave clumsy person a new meaning. His need to relocate from Main St. Arms shaded this Ghost House and he quickly agreed to terms of a joint lease. Reeling with joy he returned to the rooming house to pack his belongings. This was Charlie's first shared apartment but not to be his last.!

The months passed quickly as summertime always does. A carnival here a fair there, every weekend was fun filled and without female companionship. Charlie had tried a dating service to no avail. He was growing lonely as summer passed. His roommate had a girlfriend and never slept here any more. Charlie made his mind up that next summer he would have a car and a girlfriend. As winter neared things began happening to Charlie's life, a foundry opening to work as a chipper-grinder lead him away from his night guard position.

At last he thought now I can save some money for next summer! Soon summer would arrive and Charlie's dream would be realized. His search heightened with every week's end as his bank account grew. At last a car was available for $800. It was a 70' Pontiac Grand Am almost mint and restored.

Charlie's older brother set him up with the deal and arranged towing to the Ghost House. Towing Charlie thought, what was wrong with it. Don't worry said his older brother the car has been stored in a barn for the past 10 yrs. and only requires minor work to get it back on the road. Sat. afternoon his car arrived by tow truck. His brother drove up minutes after. "Mint ain't she?" he hollered! Charlie had the cash he requested and promptly handed it to his brother. Thanks Charlie said his brother but it's fifty bucks more for the tow. Astounded Charlie yelled hey I thought we had a deal. "Yea," said his brother but the tow's extra. Yea extra mumbled Charlie as he reached down in his front pocket. "Here," said Charlie reluctantly. No, Charlie it's for the tow truck driver reeled his brother. Oh okay replied Charlie as he reached forward with his last $50 bucks. Drop it hollered his brother.

Shortly Charlie stood gleaming at his car alone. She was a beauty all chrome with a two tone paint job. What a steal Charlie thought as he fumbled with the keys. Charlie knew this was a muscle car with a 400 cubic inch motor, dual exhaust and custom ET mags. Anxiously Charlie opened the driver's door, slid in, and adjusted the white vinyl seat to accommodate his lanky frame. Charlie starred out the dirty windshield and dreamed of cruising. What a great car Charlie thought! Soon his worst nightmare would come true.

Ring, ring my phone sounded. It was Charlie calling me to come over and help with his car. I drove over and saw his car. What a heap I thought as I gazed at this relic. What's the problem Charlie I inquired. Charlie explained the wiring got all chewed up by a family of mice that made his engine manifold their home. Well, I replied you'll need a wiring schematic first. Charlie stood there puzzled then explained he would rewire it himself. Good luck Charlie I said and drove back to Main St.

The next few months proved to be quite interesting. Charlie stopped by occasionally with his car but I always seemed to be out. My friends at the house described him driving a rusty loud car, then lastly a noisy motorcycle. A motorcycle I thought to myself! What happened to his car? I had to investigate this. It was late September by the time I finally got a hold of Charlie. His car had suffered a fatal breakdown and that was the reason for the motorcycle. I'll have to junk it Charlie explained. Do you know anyone interested in the motor? Well, Charlie I'll ask at work I replied. Anyway my mother and I are looking for another apartment, Charlie explained. We need one with a living room. Charlie I explained call me before you move I would like this apartment. Okay Dave Charlie replied I'll let you know.

Well winter soon set in and no word from Charlie about moving from the Ghost House. This winter I resolved to move come spring whether Charlie called or not. Our new landlady had raised my rent six consecutive times and now I was paving $400 a month. Charlie's apartment rented for $450 plus utilities.

Christmas came with the loneliness of not seeing my daughter in six months. The Christmas tree shone brightly and her presents were neatly set in a chair beside the tree. I was very lonely this Christmas indeed. My wife's divorce case had left me empty inside and resolute in resolving visitation problems. The county case worker came over after Christmas to view the apartment. Did I say apartment it was in a rooming house therefore it failed the county's requirement of a suitable visitation place. My resolve to move grew great as winter passed. I had borrowed $1,500 from my brother in Florida and awaited it's arrival. The money was to retain an attorney to represent me in this divorce case.

It was Friday when the check arrived. I decided to deposit it in the bank on Sat. morning. There was no hurry because I had not chosen a lawyer yet. I sat on my couch staring at my laptop computer with my door open when Charlie appeared at my doorway. How did you get in the building Charlie I said. Oh the door was open he replied sharply. Oh well I said what's up with you? He explained his mother had located an apartment and that they had moved out ten days ago. Moved I replied . I thought you were going to let me know before you moved. Yeah I forgot he said. Well, I replied can I contact your landlord? Here's his phone number Dave gotta run. I called shortly after Charlie left and left a message on his answering machine to return my call. I awoke Sat. morning and thought about Charlie's visit while the coffee brewed. Ring, ring the phone sounded. It was Harold, Charlie's landlord returning my call. We agreed to meet at his home, then after a short introduction we drove to the Ghost House. It was empty and quite messy, with some leftover speakers torn apart. I'll take it I replied crisply and away we drove to the bank. It'll take a couple of weeks for the check to clear I stated as I handed Harold his rent and security check. Okay said Harold, here's the keys you can start moving in anytime. Thanks I replied and drove off unsuspecting the recourse of being the Ghost House's next tenant. Arriving at home I carefully looked over the new keys and decided to put them on my ring.

It took me and some friends two weeks to move my apartment and another two weeks to clean and unpack. What an ordeal, I exclaimed to myself, finally I'm moved. Little did I realize that this was just the start of my ordeals to come. With help from a friend I managed to setup a swing set for my daughter and assemble a girl's big wheel. I found some kitchen curtains and two mini blinds at K-mart. The flat was now ready for the county's scruintious inspection. Following an hour long interview the inspection went well. At last I could see my daughter. Visitation went well but work did not. An argument ensued and I was without a job.

Tragedy upon tragedy ensued, leaving me desolate by summer's end. What had I gotten myself into? My life was in ruins. Finally the divorce ended everything. I gave my wife my new car in exchange for her older car, that was in need of repairs. This exchange financially ruined my budget and bankruptcy looked like the only recourse. Jobs came and went by the wayside as debit ensued and engulfed me. Tragedy I thought.

That summer I began writing Ghost House and it's conclusion seamed close by. Pursuant of a short story it only looked like a novella. I never pictured myself writing a short story, less alone a novel. In high school English was my worst subject. Reading proficiency and the ability to grasp the meaning eluded me. I even took a speed reading course to prepare for college but to no avail. In college I repeatedly failed English five times. It wasn't till I purchased a computer with word processor software that I felt somewhat confidant to undertake such a project. Spell check and grammar check had to be used on each sentence as I struggled onward. Don't give up echoed through my thoughts as I attempted to write.

My attempt to restore my livelihood carried me through winter's onslaught. Despair crept alongside my life's struggle to reconcile. Every motion was a struggle, that wore deep ruts emotionally and frantic behavior seamed forthwith. I became drained and longed for stability.

Christmas alone sadly bore reckless and senseless behavior. I had become displeased with my daughter Sarah and recklessly conveyed this displeasure to my son Eric on Christmas day. Needless to say he was appalled at this conjecture and relayed my intent never to speak to her again to his mother. An apology was in order along with an explanation for my behavior.

Was despair to be my only companion? Likely not seamed to pop into my mind! I've found self pity to be very depressing therefore unnecessary. What is necessary is employment. I began pursuing this goal. Slowly at first, then more steadily. Interviews rendered no results for quite sometime. Relevance I pondered, as I read the received your application card from Harley Davidson. The pictorial card relayed a selective process that reviewed past employers and concluded that no further correspondence meant a non-favorable decision. I regarded Harley's application as chance correspondence. Kind of like wining the lottery. What next I thought, carpet cleaning?

Reality check! I'm a machinist with a poor work record at best. There has to be a job out there that suits my needs. Reviewing my career choices hasn't motivated me at all. The Sunday employment section had many machinist ads some of which I had sent my fax resume. The resume was really my problem, for it showed a unstable work history. With this my objective was unlikely reachable. What recourse should one pursue given these circumstances? Temporary employment had rendered little work that suited my skills. Discouraged and distraught I browsed the internet for job service postings. Realizing these postings were somewhat out dated, I contacted a listing service.

Shore agency was their name with a local address. I spoke with the placement agent. He seamed anxious to meet with me and quite confident he could place me. The application was extensive with an exam on the last two pages. I struggled through the exam stopping to recheck all the problem solving. The office was jammed packed with applicants as I patiently waited my turn to be interviewed. I noticed the secretary using Microsoft Windows 95 with Microsoft Access screen active. The latest in office applications I thought, how modern! "Next" was shouted loudly from the adjacent room. It was my turn. I strolled down the short hallway and was greeted with "Please take a seat." I handed the interviewer my application and turn towards a leather bound chair. Noticing a laptop computer on the credenza behind him I sat. Wow I thought these people are well equipped! Our talk was short and to the point. His client was in need of a machine operator immediately. I was sent to meet with his client that day.

The shop was small and somewhat antiquated. I entered through the office and realized it was empty. Slow I turned towards the entrance when someone strolled down the far hallway. I hurried to catch up with him and asked if the owner was around. "Yes" he replied, "Follow me." We walked down the long hallway that leads to the shop area. The owner was unpacking some small boxes and greeted me casually. I explained Shore had sent me to fill his opening. "Yes ," he replied, I had a message on my answering machine.

We walked through the shop as he questioned me on my experience. I explained my background on Vmc's as he lead me to a Cnc lathe. There two workers were running a contract job. One was welding split castings together, the other used a small crane to load the lathe. He explained the operations then lead me over to an antique Vmc. The drilling operation is next he pointed out. A crude fixture sat on the machine's table. Production, I thought to myself!

I realized that Shore was only able to provide unskilled positions and that I wasn't going to be pleased with this placement. I agreed to start the next day. He assured me that the agent would contact me later and lead me towards the door. On the trip home I stopped off at my ex-wife's house. She invited me in and we had coffee over a lively conversation. Sarah, my daughter was leaving for her aerobics' class. Eric, my son wasn't home from work yet. Her other four children scurried to and frough about the house, followed by an array of cats. "The kids are out of school today" she explained. I told her of my new job through Shore. Finishing my coffee, I departed.

As I drove home I remembered our marriage and the struggles that ensued. Well enough of that I thought, I've got work tomorrow. Arriving home, I checked the mail on my way upstairs. Bills I concluded! "Beep" signaled there was a message on the answering machine. I played the message, and listened to the agent's "Good news." He relayed 12.50/hr. pay and a four day 10 hr. work week. Acceptable I thought. I dialed his office phone number and waited on hold to speak with him. He informed me of the 6 am. to 4 PM. work schedule and wished me well.

I arrived at 5 am. and found the shop vacant. Too early I thought, as I looked around the dimly lit building. A half hour past before anyone arrived. It was the leadman with keys to open the shop. I watched him enter the building and decided to wait till others arrived. Soon trucks appeared, and jockeyed about for their favorite parking space. I followed them in and down the hallway to the locker room. "Good morning" grunted the leadman. "Yeah" I replied. "Is there any coffee?" I asked. "No" he answered. "You have to bring your own!" I turned and walked down the hallway to the lathe. There I met the welder and asked him for a cigarette. "What's with the coffee?" I inquired. "You have to bring your own." he stated.

No coffee, this is gonna be a long day I thought. It seemed like an eternity before morning break. Everyone hurried to purchase something off the break truck. I on the other hand drank from an ill tasting water cooler. Lack of funds meant no food till I went to the Church meal program at 5 o'clock. "Gotta a cigarette" I asked as a strange looking operator light up. "Yea" he replied and handed me one. "Thanks" I said and walked back to my work area. Lunch break was next. I sat quietly in the locker room and watched everyone microwave their prepared lunches. Soon we returned to work.

What a long afternoon I thought. My lathe work had caught up with the welder and now I waited for parts. The drudgery ended at 4 o'clock. On the way home I calculated my gas consumption, arriving at the conclusion that I would not have enough gas to return to work tomorrow. Great I thought! My attempt to borrow gas money was futile. At 5:30 am. I called the leadman and explained my situation. He assured me he would relay the message to the owner. About 8:30 am. the Shore agent called and left a message, saying he could remedy this situation. There was no remedy for the situation. It was an embarrassing mistake, a mistake on my part.

Flight came into my thoughts next. I was ready to run away from my mistakes again. Far away! Onslaught by these reckless thoughts, I proceeded to contrive my demise. By my demise I meant the end of my living arrangement at Laflin's Ghost House! This house drains my temporal dreams and pulls at my very soul. How unique this situation! Has my very existence become entangled in this house? Its life seems to emulate from the occupants own life. How can that be? Laflin's Ghost House precludes any reality that I've ever known.

The next recourse seemed uncanny. A former employer called regarding a two month old application. Astonishing I thought, as I arrived for my interview. The management had recently turned over, hence review of a former employee was relevant. It seems a new employee had made a crucial error, destroying an expensive machine. I awaited their decision anxiously. This repeat was an error of recourse, based on past history. An uncanny feeling came over me, as if dejavue had occurred. Remembering the past is often a downfall rather than a recollection. Something's in one's past are better left alone and this job was one of those things. Decisions concerning the past can be shaded through time, while recollection seems clear. My needs would not be within reach repeating my past or so I presumed. Onward I thought, but to what? Foresight was never my strong suit. Yet I had to continue my pursuit.

The Ghost House's hold on me was strong indeed, for I felt compelled to pull free from it's grasp. Often I would venture into the attic and sit contemplating this house and my life. I imagined the past residents hiding great sums of wealth in this attic, maybe under the loose floorboards. I heard the clatter of birds nesting just under the decaying roof and thought of the shambles in my life. I felt recluse here and thought uncontent, quite relaxed. Destiny had something to do with my presence here and I was bound and determined to find out this relationship. I recall a paste picture I made in first grade of my dream house and am astounded at the resemblance of my upper flat. Could this house be the home I dreamt of as a child or has reality slipped away from me? Perhaps the Ghost House creates its own reality, by intertwining the occupant's life with the past! I remember Charlie's expedience to leave this house and never return. Could Charlie have experienced similar circumstances, so much so that he fled the Ghost House? Recalling the gaps in our contact I wondered if this could have happened. If so, would he have told me about it? Charlie was not one to confide his personal feelings to me. Well, I guess I'll never know for sure! Stranger things were about to occur in my life's quest. The answer came in retrospect of my decision to remain the resident of Laflin's Ghost House. The downstairs tenants had decided to buy a small home and moved out prior to winter's onslaught. This vacancy lead to a major remodeling project.

Harold, my landlord had recovered from his heart attack in the spring and made plans with his son to begin remodeling the downstairs after the first of the year. I was aware of the downstairs project, but unaware that my residence was to be included!

January's cold still lingered in my bones, as if frozen stillness meant quite restfulness. I sought relief from this climate and resolved to move from Wisconsin and return to Florida in March. As February arrived, the remodeling project shook the walls daily, awaking me from my sleep. Second shift work wasn't conducive to this daily clamor. Yes, I was leaving Laflin's Ghost House! I also was leaving behind my daughter Danielle.

Recalling my last memories of Waukesha, Laflin's Ghost House is the most vivid recollection of all.

Return to Ghost house follows:

Slowly I pulled away from Orlando heading north on the turnpike. I was returning to Waukesha to visit my daughter Danielle. It was her sixth birthday and I had purchased a mountain bicycle for her. Delivering her gift in person was my objective.

The Florida heat had affected my car's interior, subsequently the headliner was loose and flapping in the rearview mirror. At a rest stop just west of Tallahassee I removed the loose cloth. There was a cold weather front passing through with a torrid of rain. At nightfall I decided to stop at a motel and get some dinner.

The rain was subsiding as I began unpacking the car for a night's rest. Carefully I slid the electronic key into the motel room's latching mechanism. It didn't work! Repeatedly I tried the key to no avail, then suddenly the door opened with a night latch attached. An older gentleman peered inquisitively through the opening. "I am sorry for disturbing you" I exclaimed.

It seems the night clerk had given my a key to an occupied room. Embarrassed, I swiftly returned to the front desk and consoled the clerk. She assured me the mistake was unintentional and gave me a room adjacent to the occupied one. I placed my duffel on the dresser and decided I was going to get some dinner before I settled in.

The man in the doorway had conveyed his plan to dine later after my disturbance, so I was glad to leave first for the restaurant. I sat at a small table near the bar and ordered a drink. Soon the waiter came with the menu. I ordered and enjoyed the view ahead. A booth filled with college girls, in rather short skirts was across from my table. My meal arrived and I savored the shrimp pasta. It was perfect, garnished with parmesan cheese. The flavor was unbelievably delicious! I looked up, a glance actually, to check on the booth and saw the man from the motel taking a seat at the bar. He was accompanied by his wife, and placed her stool appositely for her to be seated. A real gentleman, I thought to my self.

I rose and greeted the gentleman with another apology and offered to by him and his wife a round of drinks. He declined my offer and reassured me that the mistaken room key wasn't my fault but rather a mishap on the clerk's part. I shuffled off to my table and waved for the waiter to bring me my bill. This evening's meal was very satisfying and deserved a tip. I placed 20 dollars on the bill tray and motioned to the waiter that I was ready to depart. He said he'd return with my changed shortly but I stopped him saying the change was his tip. He gleamed and reminded my the restaurant was open for breakfast also. I told him I planed a early departure and didn't usually eat breakfast.

Leaving the restaurant it began to rain. Well I hurried to get to my parked car, avoiding the large puddles. I still had to unload the car before I retired. I pulled into the motel parking lot and found a space near the pool. With the rain pouring down my neck, I unleashed Danielle's mountain bike and grabbed my suitcase. The room was a single with a noisy toilet but it had a functional shower that I used before retiring. That evening sleep came slowly as I tossed and turned rentlessly. Maybe the rainfall outside kept me half awake. Soon morning came with a slight beam of daylight that shone through the curtains where the came together. I awoke and curiously felt rested.

Coffee was the first thought that came to mind then a cigarette. I dressed and packed quickly. Remembering what the night clerk had said about turning in the electronic key before getting my Visa receipt, I strolled towards the office. As I entered I could see the morning clerk fixing the Continental breakfast. She hurried over to the front desk as I approached. I placed the electronic key on the desktop and slid it towards her. She politely asked how my stay was and I replied fine. I didn't feel like complaining about the noise toilet that I had to shut off to get to sleep. As she rang up the charge I confirmed that this was a single room and I had been charged for a double. She asked for my Visa card so she could credit the difference. At least the was some consolation.

I asked if the coffee was ready yet and she replied yes with smile. She nodded in the direction of snack area and politely spoke of the other amenities. I walked over to the snack area and poured some coffee. Time to go I thought as I sipped my coffee. As I approached my car I saw the gentleman next door leaving his room and stopped to chat briefly with him. He and his wife were on their way to Florida. They had come from Tennessee, where the operated a fish and chips stand. An interesting couple I thought, as I departed. Traffic was just starting to grow as I approached my turn off. I still had a full day's drive ahead of me.

Traffic on the interstate was light as I drove north. The sky was clear and the temperature was rising. It seams that I planned my trip on a great weekday as far as weather was concerned. Today was Friday, which meant I'd have the whole weekend to spend with Danielle. It grew dark as I neared the state line. I decided to stop for gas and get some cash from the ATM just across the border. Across from the gas station a restaurant was serving it's Friday night fish fry. I thought about eating but I was tired and still had a hour's drive ahead of me. Arriving about eleven o'clock I drove past the Ghost House. An eerie felling crept over me. The house looked changed but the dimly lit streets were filled with cars from Carroll college. I suspected it was graduation weekend so I drove on deciding to come back when it was light out.

I had called my friend Frank from the motel and told him I would arrive late. I decided to park in front of his building so I could unload the car. The contents of which where mainly Danielle's birthday presents. Slowly I pulled the car around the building. I was tired from the trip and glad to have arrived. As I drove in the city lot I thought of all the times I had parked here in the past but never for the evening. I remembered the fish fry that I pasted up and felt a queasy tightness in my stomach. It was a pitch dark evening in early spring. I wandered if there would be a frost tonight! Hurriedly I walked towards his building wondering if my car would be okay for he night. As I waited for the elevator I pondered a ticket from the city on my windshield in the morning. Oh well I thought this still would be a lot cheaper than another night in a motel.

Frank and I had been friends since I relocated to Waukesha. We met at Main St. Arms. I knocked lightly on his half opened door and was greeted with a grunt! "Come in" he spoke impatiently. Frank had purchased a sofa bed and welcomed my company. "Finally got room for a guest" he said. Together we pulled the bed out and placed my suitcase out of the pathway to the front door. I noticed he had put new sheets on the bed and bought a king size pillow also. All settled now I thought. As we talked I felt a rumble in my stomach. " I've got to eat something" I said loosely. "Frank could you call Schrima's Pizza and have a large cheese sausage with green peppers and pepperoni delivered?" I exclaimed! I didn't feel up to driving to pick-up a pizza, even two blocks!

Frank had to call information because Schrima's wasn't list in the phone book. Curios I thought, remembering looking up the number countless times in the past. "Dave" Frank spoke wonderingly "The don't have a listing for Schrima's" Hum I thought things must have changed. "Let's order from Grotto's then" Was my response. "Got it" Frank said, "Now what did you want on the pizza?" I repeated myself with a response of a large cheese sausage with green peppers and pepperoni delivered ."How long?" I exclaimed "Fifteen minutes, or so" responded Frank. We talked about a baseball game Frank had tickets to see, followed by his finical situation. The phone rang with a unusual ring, signaling that someone was downstairs at the lobby. Frank buzzed him in and I went to the door to pay for the pizza. We sat, ate and talked of old times. It felt good to visit Frank and I knew come morning I would see Danielle again. I grew sleeply and said goodnight to Frank.