When I reached them, Val was still busy doing up the top button of her dress. The guy was just standing there like a deer in the headlights. “Hey Ba...y,” I said, suddenly feeling very confident, “What are you guys doing out here?” “Dan and I were talking about his sculptures,” Val responded coolly, “He has such talented hands.” “Uh yes,” said Dan, looking very sheepish, “But I’m afraid it’s getting late. I need to get home.” Once we had said our goodbyes to Dan and watched him shuffle off. The bustling finally relaxed, the coming and going stopped, and everyone just sat down to smoke, drink, or do whatever. It was a day in the life. My parents were simply potentially dying in the background. ‘Harold,’ I started. ‘How old are you? Fifty?’ The room filled with boisterous laughs as he gave me his toothless grin. ‘Why, flower?’ ‘How long you been doing this? Thirty years?’ ‘Maybe longer.’ ‘I was wondering if you’d remember someone by description. Someone who used to be in, a while. More

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