At Times Like This, Adults Need A

Whoa!" He Says With A Smile. The Wrinkles At The Corners Of His Eyes Deepen. "chicken Salad A La George Orwell!

What Would Tomorrow Bring? I Wondered. Both Hands On The Wheel, I Closed My Eyes. I Didn’t Feel Like I Was In My Own Body; My Body Was Just A Lonely, Temporary Container I Happened To Be Borrowing. What Would Become Of Me Tomorrow I Did Not Know.

The Problem Was, I Think, That The Places I Fit In Were Always Falling Behind The Rimes.

People Leave Strange Little Memories Of Themselves Behind When They Die.

So Many Dreams, So Many Disappointments, So Many Promises. And In The End, They All Just Vanish.