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He stood there, staring as if he were trying to use X-ray vision or something, and then turned to go back into the house.After breakfast and a few cartoons, the eight year old boy returned to the back yard. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a paper airplane, stuck nose-first in the bushes by the fence. His heart fell when he saw that it was the same one he had thrown an hour before. So, she had rejected his request to talk things over.But wait! Was that purple ink peeking out from under a fold? He had written his note in green. Quickly unfolding the paper, he read his own note:Dear Paula, I hate being broke up. I think about you all the time. When I don’t see you and I don’t get to play with you, it’s like, I don’t know, like I don’t have enough vitamins or something. It’s like I’m not really healthy without you, like a vitamin. I’m really, really, a million reallies sorry. Can I talk to you?Then he read her answer:I miss you too. I’m sorry too. I can talk to you in the shed after. The other was a lack luster lonely almost thirty something office employee looking for someone, anyone, to fulfill her fantasies of a happy life filled with all the things a younger girl once dreamed of. As the story develops these two incomplete souls find each other, their lives entwine, affections grow, their ideas of happiness are pretty congruent, but families and life’s unexpected pitfalls intervene, happiness and contentment are smashed on the harsh rocks of unexpected discovery. Then again, maybe not. ++++++++++++ Peter Dawson was thirty-two, a businessman, and lucky. He’d had a construction company that had been building all sorts of things since the early 1990’s. Back in the day business had been so good he’d been able to buy large tracts of farmland and subdivide it years before he was ready to build. He’d built high rise, eight stories, condominiums and luxury apartments. He owned an ocean front house, a forty foot cabin cruiser, an expensive sports car, a time share in.
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