There were times when I would see her, sitting there alone with her hands cradling a cup of sugar coffee, staring out the window, watching the rain pour down. This same window she peered out of as a child, now with broken eyes and a hollow stare. …

Walking into this strange place was like walking lucidly, consciously, and wide awake into a dream. The scene before me is wavy and unclear, a slow-motion fog. The surreal feeling of the moment overwhelms me. Brown leaves from the old oak trees are tossed around the sidewalks, laying lazily here…