The water runs clear from the spigot over me washing inside my scars and fingerprints and into my ears. There it can sear away the filth that has been...left in my mind rotting away at me until it falls in yellow puss rivulets to the tiled floor. The tiles, once white, are now green with mildew fed from the fetid water and decorated with thick rusted needles. He left. Fine he left. Said it was my fault. I agreed. But only to him. I can’t blame myself. There was more to it than that. So much. She called me names. She called Connie names. She accused Connie of plotting against her. She accused me of falling for Connie’s trap, whatever that might be.”“Wow. I’m glad I’m in Milford, not Loveland right about now. Is there any truth to any of it?”“You know me better than that, Larry. If there is, I can’t say. Which means I can’t say that there isn’t, either. I just won’t comment.”“True. You never really have. I’ll let Aunt Alicia know that Joyce started in on you and that you aren’t. More

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