Only small snatches of conversation stuck out in her mind. ‘Julia! I’m making my signature cocktail, come have one,’ she remembered the senior ...taff writer calling to her. She had quickly finished her drink to try his mystery concoction. ‘Who’s up for a game of quarters?’ one of the young photographers had shouted. ‘Julia? You in?’ She had agreed. From then on all she had was flashes of memory: sitting on the floor when no chairs were available, trying to find a radio so she could dance,. The answer kept reverberating in my head. Never would this need dissipate. In fact, it seemed as more time went on, the greater it grew. The concept scared me. Would I be able to go on if he decided to end it when I left? My thoughts tortured me as I opened the door to the barn and stepped inside the darkness, quickly finding the switch that turned on a dim, overhead light. It wasn’t much, but at least I could see some. The hay scattered on the ground crunched underneath my short heels. I. More

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